A Dad’s Fantasy
by dirtytrucker1973
A Dad’s Fantasy
Prologue
Have you ever dreamt that your life was completely different? I know, foolish question. Who hasn’t? But I am not talking about being richer, wiser, and healthier or the other typical mundane things we have control over. I am talking about being a completely different person. That’s my fantasy. To be a different person, so much so that I physically dream I am different. I love that nighttime vision that I need to share it.
I am a 38 year old fat (330 lbs. or 150kg for the metric user readers) white guy. I stand 5’ 9” (175cm). I have short chestnut brown hair that is in a slow race off the top of my head so I no longer have a forehead but rather a “five” or “six” head. The color is only slightly softened by the sporadic appearance of wiry white, not grey, hairs. I have several chipped teeth that only make my small enamels smaller. Then to top it off I have short legs and a huge barrel chest and no ass to speak of or so I have been told. I am a mix-mash of body parts.
My best features are my expressive sea-foam green eyes that change to a cerulean blue when passionate or angry and my “bulge.” One of my gay friends and a wife of another constantly make comments of how they want to see the cause of my bulge. I don’t understand the curiosity. So I tell them, “It’s bigger than average, and smaller than porn star.” It’s nuts. (Ha, a pun). Sorry. The truth is I’m about 8” fully erect and rather thick. My girth is not baseball bat thick but I would probably compare the girth to that of a long fluorescent light bulb.
I didn’t always look like this. There was a time that I was well fit. That was 20 years ago. I still wasn’t six-pack ripped jock but I was half the weight, more hair and better looking smile. But even in my heyday, I still wasn’t happy with who I was.
I am a closet cross dresser. I have been since I was 6 or 7. I have been caught from time to time, but I would give it up for a long enough period of time that people just thought I went through a short phase. The truth is much deeper than being a transvestite, and no, I am not gay. I love to have my dick buried in a nice wet tight pussy. Bi-sexual isn’t it either. I think I’d say I’m a lesbian or a she-male trapped in an all man’s body.
I don’t know if I’d still want to keep my dick if I was given the opportunity to change. I love the feeling of sex. The pleasure of my penis being squeezed by a women’s vagina in the throes of orgasm is rapturous. The thing is that for as long as I have been cross dressing, I have fantasized of being a complete woman. I even found that my nipples are very sensitive, and I am more turned on by subtle foreplay techniques or a sexily dressed woman than an undressed one or a woman gratuitously grabbing my cock or rubbing her naked body parts in my face.
I remember dressing up in some of my mom’s sexy clothes and then lying in bed pretending to be a girl. There were times I would imagine being fucked by a man with a big cock, but those fantasies didn’t compare to the ones I had of being a girl with a girl. My orgasms were tremendous. I still have a hard time matching those feelings of ecstasy. Over time, my fantasies have become more of me being a functioning she-male with natural tits and a very feminine appearance, or of being a whole woman with a woman with a strap-on. Sometimes I imagine I’m all woman and being with a man or a she-male and having them fill all my orifices with hot cum. There have even been thoughts of becoming pregnant and giving birth.
I haven’t told anyone this until now. What wouldn’t I give to be a young 18 year old girl; to have a 5’4”-5’6” frame with long legs, a flat tummy and narrow waist, 34C-36D perky breasts, long silky hair, soft smooth creamy tanned skin that was blemish free, big bedroom eyes with long thick full lashes, soft kissable lips, a small button nose, and an elegant long neck, and to have a vagina, long thick dick or both? Alas, I am not, but that leads to me putting to type the following story. Some aspects are true: others are purely fictional. The people for the most part are real, just not their names.
Chapter 1: Getting caught again, this time it’s different.
There I was at home, alone. My daughter, Tasha (actually my step-daughter), my only family left, was out at a slumber party with some of her girlfriends from high school. I am the only child of deceased parents as was my wife. I say, “was my wife” because I am a widower.
Janet died when Tasha (my step-daughter) was 14. I willingly ended up with sole custody of Tasha because her biological father wanted nothing to do with her. The courts actually had to forcefully summon him regarding her care after her mom died. He actually said under oath that Tasha and her mom were the “biggest mistakes” in his life. That comment and the fact that he had not been in Tasha’s life since she was 7 helped the Judge decide to allow me sole guardianship. Tasha, to honor her mom, asked the judge to let her change her last name from her biological father’s to Janet’s. The Judge granted her request.
That was a little over 4 years ago.
Now being alone for the night, I decided to enjoy my secret fetish. So secret, my departed wife did not know of it. If she did, she never told me she knew and kept my secret for herself. On and off for the last 30 years of my life I have cross dressed. I love the feeling of silks, satins, nylon, and other smooth cool fabrics against my hairless skin. The only hair I allow is my chestnut brown, wavy locks cut to a long business length. The rest of my body is completely smooth. I used the excuse of being an avid swimmer but the truth was I wanted to enjoy the feeling of women’s clothes when I dressed.
I was able to keep my secret from my wife because I kept my stash of girly clothes at work. I own and operate a live stage theater and concert venue nightclub. I had a few overnight rooms installed for late night rehearsals and technical stage craft workers. That way they could work late nights and still get a full night’s sleep. Most of the technical workers work one show at a time for about 2-3 weeks while still holding down a full time job. Then they have to compete for stage space with directors, choreographers, actors, dancers, etc. They tend to work until the wee hours of the morning. So I allow them to use the overnight rooms that have full size beds to sleep if needed and the dressing room showers. The overnight rooms also help with the night club. Frequently a guest becomes intoxicated and they have no ride and refuse take a cab home leaving their car behind. I allow them to use the overnight rooms.
It is in these rooms on occasion, using a late night at work or at the stage as an excuse, I would spend the night fulfilling my urges. My clothing stash is easy to hide at the theater because we have our own costume storage and stock of accessories including: real and costume jewelry, wigs, shoes, boots, sandals, undergarments, purses, and much more.
Once my wife died, much of my favorite items were brought to the house and stored in my walking closet. Blouses, skirts, and dresses were stored in opaque garment bags while undergarments, nylons, wigs, make-up and other smaller items were locked in file cabinets. I had told Tasha, that I just kept copies of important work records as back-up there. As far as I knew, she never doubted me, and never snooped.
There I was stripped naked in my walk-in closet. I grabbed a pair of satin panties with a slightly gathered ass line. I slipped them up my smooth skin and felt a shiver of excitement. Quickly and expertly I tucked my penis and folded my sack up and back and snuggly pulled the panties all the way up. Next came the custom breast forms I made on my own.
I used my theater special effects make-up knowledge to create my very own breasts. First I made a positive mold of my own natural chest. Then I sculpted the size and shape breasts I wanted and looked best on me. Then I created a negative mold of the sculpture so I could create the breast forms. The breasts were made using actual silicone breast implants in cyberskin latex foam. The result was a pair of perfectly matched tits and painted to match my skin tone, that were reusable, and realistic in texture and movement.
I carefully glued the forms in place and smoothed out the seams so they were almost invisible. Then I pulled on a crimson corset top with black Victorian rose lace overlay. I had to put it on backward then cautiously maneuver it around and then stuffed my fake tits into the cups. The whale bones and they previously adjusted side ties helped pull what little of my beer gut I had into a more hourglass figure.
Next I pulled on a short satin skirt with a ruffled hem line. It was frilly, black and snug in the hips and my altered waist. I made sure that the attached garters for the corset were tucked properly into the skirt. My next step was to pull on a pair of share black lace top stocking and connected them to each garter strap. I found a pair size 9, rhinestone jeweled, crimson red, 5” heel sandals and fastened them onto my feet. (I normally wear men’s 7). Only a few more steps left.
Next came my wig selection. I chose a shoulder length, auburn colored, wavy style wig made of real human hair. Tucking my own hair inside a nylon skull cap first, I then carefully pulled the wig tightly into place. I even took a soft brush to it to work out any snarls and help the hair fall naturally into its styled place.
My look was near complete. In the full length mirror on the closet door I saw the image of a tall, slender, and sexy redhead. I stood 6’ 2” in heels. I had a nice subtle hourglass shape that made me look more like 125 lbs. instead of my 160. I then picked out the best jewelry and set it aside at my late wife’s antique vanity. It had been in the family five generation she told me once. Now it sat in my bedroom until Tasha was ready to move out. Tasha’s room was too small to accommodate the piece of furniture. I grabbed my make-up kit then sat down and looked at myself in the mirror. Studiously I began changing the lines and tones of my face with the creams and shadows. I even put on a pair of thick full lashes. Lips stick, bronzer, blush, eyeliner, lip gloss and more was applied until what looked back in the mirror was no longer me, but “Kryztal,” my feminine alter ego. I sat back for a moment and admired my work as I had many times before. I couldn’t help think that the way I looked right then was the way I was meant to look. I then put in a pair of dainty dangling earrings. I had pierced my ears years before and on occasions out to clubs I’d wear men’s style earring. Whenever I did my late wife would say how sexy I looked. “It’s so metro” she’d tease. A matching necklace went around my neck. Rings and bracelets were also added.
Finally I polished my look with a set of long fake nails polished in glitter flaked crimson and added a small rose, in various positions, to each nail. I looked elegant, sexy, and no one would be able to tell who I was unless I spoke.
My voice isn’t a gruff, rough, deep voice. In fact on the phone I get called ma’am all the time. The fact is it is more the way I talk more than the way I sound that gives my gender away. My voice is a rich alto in pitch. Miley Cyrus actually has a deeper rougher voice than I do. Did I really use Miley Cyrus as a reference? Shoot me now.
I just never worked on my feminine voice because my feminine persona was not for public appearances. It was only for my personal sexual pleasure. I then walked down to my den on the main level. The feeling of the skirt swishing over the nylon stockings and the sway of my breast easily caused my sexual arousal to increase in intensity. Along the way I stopped in the kitchen and grabbed a glass of wine. Before completing my journey I took a sip from the glass. The lipstick imprint that was left behind on the glass rim brought a flutter of joy to my fast beating heart.
Once in my den, I went to the hidden safe. No it’s not behind some framed painting or picture. It resides in the pull out storage section of a sofa base. Inside I keep a couple of vibrating cock rings and eggs. I then sat at my desk top computer and pulled up my work profile login. It was under that login that I kept my favorite bookmarks to porn sites. I slipped one of the eggs inside my panties and turned it on a barely noticeable hum and waited for my movies or stories from XnXX.com to load.
My favorites were of barely legal girls with tan skin, dark hair, big eyes, and full but not huge breasts. It didn’t matter if the action was, hardcore, lesbian, interracial, or whatever. What I loved was seeing what seemed like were girls in full, body wrenching, screaming orgasms, and begging to be fucked harder and faster by big thick cock. I loved the way they looked, almost on the verge of crying if they didn’t actually cry. They looked sexy and beautiful to me at that moment. I wanted to experience what they were at that moment because nothing to me seemed more amazing. As the girls in my stories or video neared their orgasms, my vibrator increase its speed. I did my best to time my orgasm with the girls’. They reason for the wine glass was to catch my sperm as much as possible into the glass and have it become part of a wine or champagne cocktail.
On this particular night, I was lost in the moment. I hadn’t had the opportunity to do what I was doing in almost 3 months. I needed the release. There I was one nylon clad leg in a high heel lifted upon the desk the other spread wide. On this particular day, I had a vibrating cock ring snug at the base of my penis. One hand was controlling the mouse, the other, was stroking my cock. The skirt I was wearing was pulled up to my waist and the panties tugged down under my balls. I failed to hear the front door open.
“Dad? Are you still…” It was my daughter her voice getting louder as she came to the den’s door. I was caught red handed. “Oh. I’m sorry. Is my dad around?” Tasha finished slightly embarrassed on walking in on a woman nearly exposed. I was still behind the desk enough that she didn’t quite see what I was doing. Not to mention she didn’t recognize me.
I dropped my leg from the desk and tucked the dress down tight to my thighs. Tasha just stood questioningly staring at me. “I don’t think we met but you look kind of familiar. I would say you had to be related to Dad but I know he’s the only one left in his family. I’m his daughter…well step-daughter… never mind. I’m – “
“Tasha. I…”
“Yeah, he told you about me but I never heard about…”
I could see the realization wash over her face. The confusion with the knowing, all at the same time.
“Dad?” she asked slowly stepping closer for confirmation.
“What the hell?! I have a shitty night and wanted to come and talk to you about it. I get home to find you dressed like this. What’s going on?”
I started to respond but before I could complete my first stammering syllable, continued. “You know what? Forget I asked. “
She stormed off mumbling under her breath. I stood and went after her. It took a little effort running in heels, but I caught up to her as she reached for her bedroom door. I grabbed her arm and she spun around and smacked me across the face. I staggered and at the same moment my cock my slipped out from under my skirt. My full length and hardness was exposed. She looked down and for a moment I thought I had seen flash of awe in her as she gazed at me circumcised penis.
“You know what, Dad, this is sick. I don’t want to talk to you now. Right now I just want to be left the fuck alone.” She scolded. She easily retreated to her room uncontested. I was stunned from the slap in the face and the F-bomb being dropped on me like that.”
I quietly and ashamedly went to my room and stripped out of my female persona. I was in tears wondering what my daughter thought of me. Was she on her phone telling her friends what a perverted freak I was? I just wanted to go in and apologize for what she witnessed. I didn’t. Instead, I got dressed as Stefan (my true male self) and went downstairs to our wet bar. I poured myself a shot and downed it without much contemplation; then there was a second followed by a third. I was pouring my fourth when Tasha appeared and set an extra shot glass next to mine. “I could use one of those, too.” She said.
I just poured. I had a rule for Tasha like my father had for me when I turned 16. She could drink to her hearts content any and all of my alcohol, as long as she followed 4 rules.
1. No drinking and driving. I’d pick her up at any party or where ever she was if she any amount to drink; no questions asked until the next day.
2. Never leave a drink unattended. If she lost site or hold of any drink outside the house she would not finish it.
3. I’d rather she only drink at home. I’d also prefer if I was home. Any alcohol in the house was available to her except, my expensive Brandy, Champagne, or my $5000.00 bottle of Cognac.
4. Her friends fell under the same rules, but absolutely could not drink at the house when I wasn’t there and I had to talk and get permission from their parents to allow them to drink.
She downed the drink like a seasoned soul. I downed mine right after hers. We sat there in silence for a moment sitting on adjacent stools. Without a word, she slid her shot glass over for a refill which she received, along with my 5th in less than 5 minutes.
“So…” she said breaking the palatable quietness that was pounding in my brain. “I’ll talk if you do.” She was always quick to resolve her own anger and be able to talk about it. I was the same way.
I poured her a shot. I went to pour one for myself but stopped. She shrugged and downed her third. I hung my head and left out a slow, long, cleansing breathe. It didn’t help. All it did was make me aware that my heart was pounding ferociously in my chest and my stomach was wanting to do backflips.
Slowly and without interruption from Tasha, I revealed my secrets. Well, I revealed all but 2. The first I held back was the desire to be her.
I had watched her become a stunning sexy young lady. Tasha was 5’ 4” with a “to die for” 34C-22-32 body. Her breasts were still high on her chest and she had nipples that were big and thick. She had a hard time hiding them in cold weather sometimes. The legs were toned and slender along with her very flat stomach. Her but was a gorgeous soft, round but firm enough not to jiggle uncontrollably. Imagine something between Eliza Dushku’s and Beyonce’s asses. Tasha has shiny, long, silky, black hair with just enough wave to give it a full bounce. Her bangs are cut so that one of her bright honey golden hazel eyes is sexily covered. My daughter is a knock out.
The other secret was that I’d been having my first thought of being with a woman as a man in a long time. Tasha was the desire in those thoughts. I wanted to taste her sweet sexual honey. I wanted to feel her lips on mine as our tongues met. I wanted to feel her warm tight holes stretched over my cock as it slid in and out of her bringing her to explosive orgasms. Any guy that could look at my daughter and not feel that way was either gay, or a very good devout clergymen.
I did tell her how I enjoy dressing as a woman and how it made me feel sexually. She just sat there nodding and downing another pair of shots. When I finished, she asked if I was gay. I told her no.
“I don’t get it. Why would you want to be a woman?” she asked. “We have to work twice as hard to get recognition, equal pay, treated like people and not objects for sexual pleasure.”
“Because I think women like you are very beautiful, sexy, and I would love to feel the intense joy or an emotional, physical orgasm the way you all do.” I replied.
The 5 shots were creating a good buzz. I poured another pair.
“Really, you think I’m sexy?” she asked.
I hadn’t realized I said that. My inhibitions were definitely lower.
“Yes” I tried to say plainly.
“I’ve been trying to dress better. Guys aren’t asking me out anymore.” She confided. “I thought there was something wrong with me. I started making an effort to be ‘sexier’ without being slutty.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“But guys at school haven’t, at least not the good ones.” There was a long pause. “I lied to you about the slumber party, Dad” She confessed. “I was on a date. Well a double date with one of my girlfriends”
“Ok.” I said not seeing the reason for her to lie about that.
“The thing is it was with some older college guys. They wanted to have a hotel party. Their idea of party was group sex.” I turned my head in her direction so fast I felt my lips and eyes snap into place as second after the rest of my face stopped. I imagine myself looking like a cartoon character.
“I told Bree, I didn’t feel comfortable and wanted to leave. She decided to stay behind.”
There was another good pause as I digested everything I just heard in the last 15 seconds. Tasha was smart enough to get out of a bad situation. I was proud. She left a friend behind to fend for herself. I felt Tasha’s guilt but at the same time disappointed she couldn’t get her friend to leave. But more overwhelming was the image of Tasha having sex. I felt a stir in my lounge shorts.
“Why can’t I find a guy who loves me for who I am, not my appearance?”
“Because you don’t know what you are looking for, yourself.” I answered.
“Yeah. Your right.” She said defeated.
“Well think about it. What’s most important in a guy to you besides love?” I asked.
“He’s got to be smart, make me laugh, work.” She said in quick succession.
“Yeah but that’s the easy stuff.” I said. Everyone wants that. “I bet I know what you want netter than you do.” I challenged.
“How could you, if like you say I don’t know myself?”
“I’ll bet a shot for each thing I get right. If I’m right you drink, if I’m wrong I drink.”
“Deal.” she said accepting the gauntlet.
“Ok here’s a start. He’s got to put you as an equal to his family but above his friends.”
“I wouldn’t make him pick me over his friends all the time. Just for important things like birthdays and holidays, or special events,” she countered.
“I wasn’t done, but am I wrong?”
“No.” I poured she drank.
I even drank one for myself.
“Why did you drink?” she queried.
“Good faith,” I said. “You did say you wouldn’t want him to pick you over his friends all the time.
“You’d also want him to be good with his hands.”
“Yes, but…” I held up my hand to stop her so I could finish the thought.
“That could mean he’s a good cook, a mechanic, a carpenter, or a masseuse. He needs to be good with his hands in every mundane life; because contrary to what you were about to say if he’s good with his hands in mundane trivial things then he should be able to use his hands lovingly on your body.”
She drank.
“Also, he needs to be wise enough to know his strengths and weaknesses do he is wealthy.”
“We have enough money I don’t care about that.” She said.
I just looked at her. Once again she drank. So did I.
“I know that honey. It just shows he’s got desire, passion, and a plan for his future and maybe someone else with him.” “She drank again.
“He needs to have an artistic side. Not that he needs to be a prodigy in music or paint, but he needs to be creative enough to be spontaneous and able to surprise you.” She drank.
“He needs to be well fit. Not that he needs to be sexy buff but so he can be strong when you’re not. He needs to be strong enough to protect you when you can’t protect yourself.” She drank another shot.
“He’s has to want a decent size family.” One more drink was drunk.
“He also needs to be a great lover. He needs to know how to hold you for each mood you’re in.”
“Da-a-ad” she said in that “good grief” melody everyone knows while turning a darker shade of red than the alcohol had already instilled. She drank.
“Continuing with that last one, he needs to be willing to delay his own pleasure and desires for yours so you both can enjoy the throes of ecstasy.” She started to drink again but I stopped her. “How did I do?”
“Not bad. But hearing those things then there can only be one man for me.” She said. “You or someone very much like you.”
I drank.
There was a long break of silence again.
“How about some music?” she suggested.
“Sounds good.”
She turned on the music system and hit buttons to start a random shuffle of songs. The Beatles’ “In My Life” was the first to play.
Tasha stood by the player and just swayed to the music. I couldn’t help but watch her with a smile on my face. Four hours ago she had walked in on me in drag. We talked as if nothing had changed, but in reality we were closer than ever before. It was now 2am, we both were drunk, and there she stood swaying her hips to the music.
She looked up to see me watching her dance alone. She beaconed me to join her for the dance. I did. She hit replay to make the song loop as I approached.
At first we danced like typical grade school kids do; arms stretched out and as far apart as possible but still be together. Then she just pulled herself into my arms. I wrapped my arms tenderly around her and held her to me. I could feel the heat of her chest radiating into mine. The smell of her perfume, hair, and her wafted into my nostrils. Our bodies swayed together as Lennon sweetly sings of memories and love. I was a great moment for us. I felt her stir and lift her head.
Our eyes met. The language of love rang without a sound. The next thing I knew her lips were moving up to meet mine and mine lowering to hers. Our lips met softly. Our eyes shut. John was singing, for the third time.
“But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new”
How kiss grew in passion. Mouths opened and our show of affection matured. Then tongues advanced. My head spun. I don’t know if was the passion or the alcohol that caused my body to tremble. It was likely a little of both. I pulled her closer to me and felt the unsteady rhythm of her breathing against my own short breaths. Her nipples were hard and easily noticeable through our thin fabric shirts.
I felt my own body part become hard and stiff. I did nothing to hide it. Tasha noticed. She let one of her hands drop from around my neck and slid it in between us and began stroking my growing length through the cotton threads. I broke our kiss and moaned. Her fingers felt great gripping my girth.
She then began pushing my shorts down off my hips until there wasn’t enough tension in the elastic to keep them up on my body. I was now naked from the waist down before my daughter. Her hands ran back up my thighs and then under my shirt on my chest. Her forearms lifted my shirt up and her lips found purchase on my smooth pecs. I tugged my shirt completely off and tossed it aside. I was completely naked before my daughter and I was enjoying it.
Slowly she kissed her way down my body. Her full tits slid along my throbbing shaft as she kissed her way down my abdomen. Finally her lips made contact with my shaft and I just about collapsed to the floor.
Her warm wet mouth and active tongue began savoring every inch of my erection. I watched in amazement as her beautiful mouth stretched around it and began sliding up and down on its veiny ridges. Every now and then she would look up at me through long dark black lashes with gleaming eyes and smile up at me. She sucked my cock for a good 5-6 minutes. I didn’t last any longer than that before warning her of my impending eruption. She just sucked harder and more feverously. I grunted out “Oh god. Tasha your mouth is soOOOoo good.”
She didn’t miss a drop. I had to beg her to stop because the feeling became so intense. She did only to slide back up my body, kissing as much skin along the way. Our lips and tongues met again. I tasted my own cum on hers. I had similar occurrences happen in the past but never liked the taste of my own cum. This time was different. This time the taste of Tasha’s mouth and tongue sweetened the enjoyment.
I scooped her up in my arms and carried her to my king size bed. I had bought a new one more to my liking after her mom died so there were so feelings of betrayal taking a new woman to my bed; in fact Tasha was the first. I set her down carefully at the foot of my bed. First I pulled her shirt off over her head. Her natural scent along with her sweet blossom perfume swirled around my head. I began kissing areas of exposed flesh around her neck and the top of her breasts. Her hands guided my head to the area she wanted kissed as she moaned in pleasure while I slowly freed her tits from their underwire confinement. Once free she guided me straight to her nipples which were dark and hard.
I traced my tongue around each and kissed all around the nipple teasing her. Finally, I positioned my mouth, open, over one nipple and let my hot breath caress her. She moaned in anticipation. I then took the first nipple in my mouth and rolled my tongue all around it before suckling it.
“Oh, god, Dad. That feels so good.”
I kissed and suck on each of her tits bringing her off to a micro orgasm. My kisses then began a long slow journey south. When I reached the top of her jeans I slowly unzipped and unfastened them while making constant eye contact. She was biting her lower lip playfully. I slowly tugged off the jeans and kissed my way up her left leg until I got to her cotton panty covered mound. I gripped the sides of the powder blue colored garment and took them off. Tasha was massaging her own tits heightening her pleasure. I then kissed my way up her right leg as I did the left. I traced tiny shapes and letters with my tongue all over her creamy calves and thighs.
Once I was a breath away from her glistening slit, I opened her legs more and placed my first kiss on her outer labia. Her wetness coated my lips. I licked them off savoring her sweet tangy taste. I lapped her folds from vagina to clit where I paused and kissed. Her shaved mound looked so sweet and innocent. Her rosebud was swollen and exposed from its hood. I kissed it long and tenderly, lightly flicking my tongue across its surface.
“Oh fuck!” Tasha cried out.
I went back to sliding my tongue along her slit, delving deeper and deeper into her with each lash. After about 15 slow laps, I slowly stuck my tongue deep inside her. I was trying to get every tasty drop of her nectar. I began thrusting my tongue in and out of her like a mini penis. She squirmed uncontrollable under me.
I finally release her from my mouth music. I smiled down at her. I couldn’t believe that she and I were doing this. There were no protests. It was happening naturally and lovingly. I’m sure the liquor had a bit to do with that but neither of us cared.
“Make love to me, Daddy” she said. “I want you to fill me up with that beautiful cock of your.”
Who was I to deny her? I climbed up her body kissing her from navel to lips. When our bodies where nearly eye to eye, with my chest up off hers, I was amazed that my tip seemed to line up perfectly with her entrance. I could feel the moist heat coaxing my gland.
Tasha wrapped her legs up over my hips and around my back, and pulled my down to kiss her. With our tongues dancing, she pulled me in. She gasped as my thick rod opened her up. Slowly I pushed in to her.
“Wow.” was all she could get out. I fed her hole more and more or my shaft, until all 10 inches were deep in her.
“You’re so tight, baby” I commented. “You feel so good”
Slowly I began working my penis in and out of her. I looked down and watched her skin get pushed and pulled with each stroke. I hadn’t noticed how exposed and close to her slit her love button was. It was getting rubbed by her stretched lips pulling on her hood. As she rolled her hips to meet my thrust it would actually make contact with the base of my shaft.
Her hands began looking for something to grab on my body. Her nails dug into my chest and my arms as she responded to her ever growing pleasure. I leaned in and began suckling on one of her nipples. I slowed my thrusting and limited my thrusting so that only the first two or three inches of her hole was being grazed by the tip of my cock.
“Yes! Right there” she cooed. “God, please don’t stop. Your big cock feels so good in my pussy, Daddy”
I counted off thirty strokes in my head before burying myself balls deep in her.
Her hand flew up around my neck and pulled me down to her. Our foreheads were touching and our eyes raging with lust, love, and desire. I began thrusting in and out of her deep, hard and fast.
“Yeah, Yeah, Yeah” was all that was said with each stroke of my cock.
I knew I wouldn’t last much longer. I took a moment and closed my eye and tried to recall the last Chicago Bears game score. I needed distraction because I wanted her to cum with me. I struggled for about 30 seconds with that thought, before she was grunting and telling me to fuck her harder.
“I’m so close, Daddy. You’re gonna make me cum again. I love you, Daddy.” She said.
Those last four words, along with what we were doing stripped the search for the score to delay my orgasm. Instead I counted down from 30 thrusting in and out as longer, deep, and hard as I could. By the time I was down to 12, Tasha went into orgasmic convulsion. She thrashed her head from side to side and her legs and hips shook uncontrollably against by body. Her legs contracted so hard I was balls deep and only able to pull out an inch or so. I felt her pussy walls spasming all around my shaft and that’s all I could take.
“I’m gonna cum, baby! I grunted in warning.
“Oh, god, yes, Daddy cum with me. Cum in my tight pussy.”
“Shit!” I cried out as the first hot eruption escaped passed my tip.
“Oooo. I can feel you cumming in me, Daddy” she said.
I came harder than ever before. Usually I can feel only 4-6 shots leave my body but her muscles just kept milking me of more and more. After my 8 or ninth splash inside her womb, I finally stopped. I looked down at my baby girl and she was crying. I kissed a tear away. Her eyes silently told me they were tears of joy. I was enjoying the same feeling.
Never in my life did making love or having sex feel so wonderful, spiritual, perfect.
I went to roll off of her but she rolled with me.
“No.” she said. “Please stay in me a little longer. You feel so good still in me.”
She was now on top of me and my cock still completely in her. Although it was softening, it was still full in her. It was like my cock and her pussy were doing everything they could to extend the pleasure and remain connected.
I fell asleep running my hand over her sweat glistened back and running it through her soft hair. I had to have stayed awake for at least 15 or twenty more minute. The whole time I was still in her, slowly becoming softer. I think she fell asleep just a minute or two before me.
The next thing I remember was waking to the two of us in the same position and her just smiling up at me.
Prologue
Have you ever dreamt that your life was completely different? I know, foolish question. Who hasn’t? But I am not talking about being richer, wiser, and healthier or the other typical mundane things we have control over. I am talking about being a completely different person. That’s my fantasy. To be a different person, so much so that I physically dream I am different. I love that nighttime vision that I need to share it.
I am a 38 year old fat (330 lbs. or 150kg for the metric user readers) white guy. I stand 5’ 9” (175cm). I have short chestnut brown hair that is in a slow race off the top of my head so I no longer have a forehead but rather a “five” or “six” head. The color is only slightly softened by the sporadic appearance of wiry white, not grey, hairs. I have several chipped teeth that only make my small enamels smaller. Then to top it off I have short legs and a huge barrel chest and no ass to speak of or so I have been told. I am a mix-mash of body parts.
My best features are my expressive sea-foam green eyes that change to a cerulean blue when passionate or angry and my “bulge.” One of my gay friends and a wife of another constantly make comments of how they want to see the cause of my bulge. I don’t understand the curiosity. So I tell them, “It’s bigger than average, and smaller than porn star.” It’s nuts. (Ha, a pun). Sorry. The truth is I’m about 8” fully erect and rather thick. My girth is not baseball bat thick but I would probably compare the girth to that of a long fluorescent light bulb.
I didn’t always look like this. There was a time that I was well fit. That was 20 years ago. I still wasn’t six-pack ripped jock but I was half the weight, more hair and better looking smile. But even in my heyday, I still wasn’t happy with who I was.
I am a closet cross dresser. I have been since I was 6 or 7. I have been caught from time to time, but I would give it up for a long enough period of time that people just thought I went through a short phase. The truth is much deeper than being a transvestite, and no, I am not gay. I love to have my dick buried in a nice wet tight pussy. Bi-sexual isn’t it either. I think I’d say I’m a lesbian or a she-male trapped in an all man’s body.
I don’t know if I’d still want to keep my dick if I was given the opportunity to change. I love the feeling of sex. The pleasure of my penis being squeezed by a women’s vagina in the throes of orgasm is rapturous. The thing is that for as long as I have been cross dressing, I have fantasized of being a complete woman. I even found that my nipples are very sensitive, and I am more turned on by subtle foreplay techniques or a sexily dressed woman than an undressed one or a woman gratuitously grabbing my cock or rubbing her naked body parts in my face.
I remember dressing up in some of my mom’s sexy clothes and then lying in bed pretending to be a girl. There were times I would imagine being fucked by a man with a big cock, but those fantasies didn’t compare to the ones I had of being a girl with a girl. My orgasms were tremendous. I still have a hard time matching those feelings of ecstasy. Over time, my fantasies have become more of me being a functioning she-male with natural tits and a very feminine appearance, or of being a whole woman with a woman with a strap-on. Sometimes I imagine I’m all woman and being with a man or a she-male and having them fill all my orifices with hot cum. There have even been thoughts of becoming pregnant and giving birth.
I haven’t told anyone this until now. What wouldn’t I give to be a young 18 year old girl; to have a 5’4”-5’6” frame with long legs, a flat tummy and narrow waist, 34C-36D perky breasts, long silky hair, soft smooth creamy tanned skin that was blemish free, big bedroom eyes with long thick full lashes, soft kissable lips, a small button nose, and an elegant long neck, and to have a vagina, long thick dick or both? Alas, I am not, but that leads to me putting to type the following story. Some aspects are true: others are purely fictional. The people for the most part are real, just not their names.
Chapter 1: Getting caught again, this time it’s different.
There I was at home, alone. My daughter, Tasha (actually my step-daughter), my only family left, was out at a slumber party with some of her girlfriends from high school. I am the only child of deceased parents as was my wife. I say, “was my wife” because I am a widower.
Janet died when Tasha (my step-daughter) was 14. I willingly ended up with sole custody of Tasha because her biological father wanted nothing to do with her. The courts actually had to forcefully summon him regarding her care after her mom died. He actually said under oath that Tasha and her mom were the “biggest mistakes” in his life. That comment and the fact that he had not been in Tasha’s life since she was 7 helped the Judge decide to allow me sole guardianship. Tasha, to honor her mom, asked the judge to let her change her last name from her biological father’s to Janet’s. The Judge granted her request.
That was a little over 4 years ago.
Now being alone for the night, I decided to enjoy my secret fetish. So secret, my departed wife did not know of it. If she did, she never told me she knew and kept my secret for herself. On and off for the last 30 years of my life I have cross dressed. I love the feeling of silks, satins, nylon, and other smooth cool fabrics against my hairless skin. The only hair I allow is my chestnut brown, wavy locks cut to a long business length. The rest of my body is completely smooth. I used the excuse of being an avid swimmer but the truth was I wanted to enjoy the feeling of women’s clothes when I dressed.
I was able to keep my secret from my wife because I kept my stash of girly clothes at work. I own and operate a live stage theater and concert venue nightclub. I had a few overnight rooms installed for late night rehearsals and technical stage craft workers. That way they could work late nights and still get a full night’s sleep. Most of the technical workers work one show at a time for about 2-3 weeks while still holding down a full time job. Then they have to compete for stage space with directors, choreographers, actors, dancers, etc. They tend to work until the wee hours of the morning. So I allow them to use the overnight rooms that have full size beds to sleep if needed and the dressing room showers. The overnight rooms also help with the night club. Frequently a guest becomes intoxicated and they have no ride and refuse take a cab home leaving their car behind. I allow them to use the overnight rooms.
It is in these rooms on occasion, using a late night at work or at the stage as an excuse, I would spend the night fulfilling my urges. My clothing stash is easy to hide at the theater because we have our own costume storage and stock of accessories including: real and costume jewelry, wigs, shoes, boots, sandals, undergarments, purses, and much more.
Once my wife died, much of my favorite items were brought to the house and stored in my walking closet. Blouses, skirts, and dresses were stored in opaque garment bags while undergarments, nylons, wigs, make-up and other smaller items were locked in file cabinets. I had told Tasha, that I just kept copies of important work records as back-up there. As far as I knew, she never doubted me, and never snooped.
There I was stripped naked in my walk-in closet. I grabbed a pair of satin panties with a slightly gathered ass line. I slipped them up my smooth skin and felt a shiver of excitement. Quickly and expertly I tucked my penis and folded my sack up and back and snuggly pulled the panties all the way up. Next came the custom breast forms I made on my own.
I used my theater special effects make-up knowledge to create my very own breasts. First I made a positive mold of my own natural chest. Then I sculpted the size and shape breasts I wanted and looked best on me. Then I created a negative mold of the sculpture so I could create the breast forms. The breasts were made using actual silicone breast implants in cyberskin latex foam. The result was a pair of perfectly matched tits and painted to match my skin tone, that were reusable, and realistic in texture and movement.
I carefully glued the forms in place and smoothed out the seams so they were almost invisible. Then I pulled on a crimson corset top with black Victorian rose lace overlay. I had to put it on backward then cautiously maneuver it around and then stuffed my fake tits into the cups. The whale bones and they previously adjusted side ties helped pull what little of my beer gut I had into a more hourglass figure.
Next I pulled on a short satin skirt with a ruffled hem line. It was frilly, black and snug in the hips and my altered waist. I made sure that the attached garters for the corset were tucked properly into the skirt. My next step was to pull on a pair of share black lace top stocking and connected them to each garter strap. I found a pair size 9, rhinestone jeweled, crimson red, 5” heel sandals and fastened them onto my feet. (I normally wear men’s 7). Only a few more steps left.
Next came my wig selection. I chose a shoulder length, auburn colored, wavy style wig made of real human hair. Tucking my own hair inside a nylon skull cap first, I then carefully pulled the wig tightly into place. I even took a soft brush to it to work out any snarls and help the hair fall naturally into its styled place.
My look was near complete. In the full length mirror on the closet door I saw the image of a tall, slender, and sexy redhead. I stood 6’ 2” in heels. I had a nice subtle hourglass shape that made me look more like 125 lbs. instead of my 160. I then picked out the best jewelry and set it aside at my late wife’s antique vanity. It had been in the family five generation she told me once. Now it sat in my bedroom until Tasha was ready to move out. Tasha’s room was too small to accommodate the piece of furniture. I grabbed my make-up kit then sat down and looked at myself in the mirror. Studiously I began changing the lines and tones of my face with the creams and shadows. I even put on a pair of thick full lashes. Lips stick, bronzer, blush, eyeliner, lip gloss and more was applied until what looked back in the mirror was no longer me, but “Kryztal,” my feminine alter ego. I sat back for a moment and admired my work as I had many times before. I couldn’t help think that the way I looked right then was the way I was meant to look. I then put in a pair of dainty dangling earrings. I had pierced my ears years before and on occasions out to clubs I’d wear men’s style earring. Whenever I did my late wife would say how sexy I looked. “It’s so metro” she’d tease. A matching necklace went around my neck. Rings and bracelets were also added.
Finally I polished my look with a set of long fake nails polished in glitter flaked crimson and added a small rose, in various positions, to each nail. I looked elegant, sexy, and no one would be able to tell who I was unless I spoke.
My voice isn’t a gruff, rough, deep voice. In fact on the phone I get called ma’am all the time. The fact is it is more the way I talk more than the way I sound that gives my gender away. My voice is a rich alto in pitch. Miley Cyrus actually has a deeper rougher voice than I do. Did I really use Miley Cyrus as a reference? Shoot me now.
I just never worked on my feminine voice because my feminine persona was not for public appearances. It was only for my personal sexual pleasure. I then walked down to my den on the main level. The feeling of the skirt swishing over the nylon stockings and the sway of my breast easily caused my sexual arousal to increase in intensity. Along the way I stopped in the kitchen and grabbed a glass of wine. Before completing my journey I took a sip from the glass. The lipstick imprint that was left behind on the glass rim brought a flutter of joy to my fast beating heart.
Once in my den, I went to the hidden safe. No it’s not behind some framed painting or picture. It resides in the pull out storage section of a sofa base. Inside I keep a couple of vibrating cock rings and eggs. I then sat at my desk top computer and pulled up my work profile login. It was under that login that I kept my favorite bookmarks to porn sites. I slipped one of the eggs inside my panties and turned it on a barely noticeable hum and waited for my movies or stories from XnXX.com to load.
My favorites were of barely legal girls with tan skin, dark hair, big eyes, and full but not huge breasts. It didn’t matter if the action was, hardcore, lesbian, interracial, or whatever. What I loved was seeing what seemed like were girls in full, body wrenching, screaming orgasms, and begging to be fucked harder and faster by big thick cock. I loved the way they looked, almost on the verge of crying if they didn’t actually cry. They looked sexy and beautiful to me at that moment. I wanted to experience what they were at that moment because nothing to me seemed more amazing. As the girls in my stories or video neared their orgasms, my vibrator increase its speed. I did my best to time my orgasm with the girls’. They reason for the wine glass was to catch my sperm as much as possible into the glass and have it become part of a wine or champagne cocktail.
On this particular night, I was lost in the moment. I hadn’t had the opportunity to do what I was doing in almost 3 months. I needed the release. There I was one nylon clad leg in a high heel lifted upon the desk the other spread wide. On this particular day, I had a vibrating cock ring snug at the base of my penis. One hand was controlling the mouse, the other, was stroking my cock. The skirt I was wearing was pulled up to my waist and the panties tugged down under my balls. I failed to hear the front door open.
“Dad? Are you still…” It was my daughter her voice getting louder as she came to the den’s door. I was caught red handed. “Oh. I’m sorry. Is my dad around?” Tasha finished slightly embarrassed on walking in on a woman nearly exposed. I was still behind the desk enough that she didn’t quite see what I was doing. Not to mention she didn’t recognize me.
I dropped my leg from the desk and tucked the dress down tight to my thighs. Tasha just stood questioningly staring at me. “I don’t think we met but you look kind of familiar. I would say you had to be related to Dad but I know he’s the only one left in his family. I’m his daughter…well step-daughter… never mind. I’m – “
“Tasha. I…”
“Yeah, he told you about me but I never heard about…”
I could see the realization wash over her face. The confusion with the knowing, all at the same time.
“Dad?” she asked slowly stepping closer for confirmation.
“What the hell?! I have a shitty night and wanted to come and talk to you about it. I get home to find you dressed like this. What’s going on?”
I started to respond but before I could complete my first stammering syllable, continued. “You know what? Forget I asked. “
She stormed off mumbling under her breath. I stood and went after her. It took a little effort running in heels, but I caught up to her as she reached for her bedroom door. I grabbed her arm and she spun around and smacked me across the face. I staggered and at the same moment my cock my slipped out from under my skirt. My full length and hardness was exposed. She looked down and for a moment I thought I had seen flash of awe in her as she gazed at me circumcised penis.
“You know what, Dad, this is sick. I don’t want to talk to you now. Right now I just want to be left the fuck alone.” She scolded. She easily retreated to her room uncontested. I was stunned from the slap in the face and the F-bomb being dropped on me like that.”
I quietly and ashamedly went to my room and stripped out of my female persona. I was in tears wondering what my daughter thought of me. Was she on her phone telling her friends what a perverted freak I was? I just wanted to go in and apologize for what she witnessed. I didn’t. Instead, I got dressed as Stefan (my true male self) and went downstairs to our wet bar. I poured myself a shot and downed it without much contemplation; then there was a second followed by a third. I was pouring my fourth when Tasha appeared and set an extra shot glass next to mine. “I could use one of those, too.” She said.
I just poured. I had a rule for Tasha like my father had for me when I turned 16. She could drink to her hearts content any and all of my alcohol, as long as she followed 4 rules.
1. No drinking and driving. I’d pick her up at any party or where ever she was if she any amount to drink; no questions asked until the next day.
2. Never leave a drink unattended. If she lost site or hold of any drink outside the house she would not finish it.
3. I’d rather she only drink at home. I’d also prefer if I was home. Any alcohol in the house was available to her except, my expensive Brandy, Champagne, or my $5000.00 bottle of Cognac.
4. Her friends fell under the same rules, but absolutely could not drink at the house when I wasn’t there and I had to talk and get permission from their parents to allow them to drink.
She downed the drink like a seasoned soul. I downed mine right after hers. We sat there in silence for a moment sitting on adjacent stools. Without a word, she slid her shot glass over for a refill which she received, along with my 5th in less than 5 minutes.
“So…” she said breaking the palatable quietness that was pounding in my brain. “I’ll talk if you do.” She was always quick to resolve her own anger and be able to talk about it. I was the same way.
I poured her a shot. I went to pour one for myself but stopped. She shrugged and downed her third. I hung my head and left out a slow, long, cleansing breathe. It didn’t help. All it did was make me aware that my heart was pounding ferociously in my chest and my stomach was wanting to do backflips.
Slowly and without interruption from Tasha, I revealed my secrets. Well, I revealed all but 2. The first I held back was the desire to be her.
I had watched her become a stunning sexy young lady. Tasha was 5’ 4” with a “to die for” 34C-22-32 body. Her breasts were still high on her chest and she had nipples that were big and thick. She had a hard time hiding them in cold weather sometimes. The legs were toned and slender along with her very flat stomach. Her but was a gorgeous soft, round but firm enough not to jiggle uncontrollably. Imagine something between Eliza Dushku’s and Beyonce’s asses. Tasha has shiny, long, silky, black hair with just enough wave to give it a full bounce. Her bangs are cut so that one of her bright honey golden hazel eyes is sexily covered. My daughter is a knock out.
The other secret was that I’d been having my first thought of being with a woman as a man in a long time. Tasha was the desire in those thoughts. I wanted to taste her sweet sexual honey. I wanted to feel her lips on mine as our tongues met. I wanted to feel her warm tight holes stretched over my cock as it slid in and out of her bringing her to explosive orgasms. Any guy that could look at my daughter and not feel that way was either gay, or a very good devout clergymen.
I did tell her how I enjoy dressing as a woman and how it made me feel sexually. She just sat there nodding and downing another pair of shots. When I finished, she asked if I was gay. I told her no.
“I don’t get it. Why would you want to be a woman?” she asked. “We have to work twice as hard to get recognition, equal pay, treated like people and not objects for sexual pleasure.”
“Because I think women like you are very beautiful, sexy, and I would love to feel the intense joy or an emotional, physical orgasm the way you all do.” I replied.
The 5 shots were creating a good buzz. I poured another pair.
“Really, you think I’m sexy?” she asked.
I hadn’t realized I said that. My inhibitions were definitely lower.
“Yes” I tried to say plainly.
“I’ve been trying to dress better. Guys aren’t asking me out anymore.” She confided. “I thought there was something wrong with me. I started making an effort to be ‘sexier’ without being slutty.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“But guys at school haven’t, at least not the good ones.” There was a long pause. “I lied to you about the slumber party, Dad” She confessed. “I was on a date. Well a double date with one of my girlfriends”
“Ok.” I said not seeing the reason for her to lie about that.
“The thing is it was with some older college guys. They wanted to have a hotel party. Their idea of party was group sex.” I turned my head in her direction so fast I felt my lips and eyes snap into place as second after the rest of my face stopped. I imagine myself looking like a cartoon character.
“I told Bree, I didn’t feel comfortable and wanted to leave. She decided to stay behind.”
There was another good pause as I digested everything I just heard in the last 15 seconds. Tasha was smart enough to get out of a bad situation. I was proud. She left a friend behind to fend for herself. I felt Tasha’s guilt but at the same time disappointed she couldn’t get her friend to leave. But more overwhelming was the image of Tasha having sex. I felt a stir in my lounge shorts.
“Why can’t I find a guy who loves me for who I am, not my appearance?”
“Because you don’t know what you are looking for, yourself.” I answered.
“Yeah. Your right.” She said defeated.
“Well think about it. What’s most important in a guy to you besides love?” I asked.
“He’s got to be smart, make me laugh, work.” She said in quick succession.
“Yeah but that’s the easy stuff.” I said. Everyone wants that. “I bet I know what you want netter than you do.” I challenged.
“How could you, if like you say I don’t know myself?”
“I’ll bet a shot for each thing I get right. If I’m right you drink, if I’m wrong I drink.”
“Deal.” she said accepting the gauntlet.
“Ok here’s a start. He’s got to put you as an equal to his family but above his friends.”
“I wouldn’t make him pick me over his friends all the time. Just for important things like birthdays and holidays, or special events,” she countered.
“I wasn’t done, but am I wrong?”
“No.” I poured she drank.
I even drank one for myself.
“Why did you drink?” she queried.
“Good faith,” I said. “You did say you wouldn’t want him to pick you over his friends all the time.
“You’d also want him to be good with his hands.”
“Yes, but…” I held up my hand to stop her so I could finish the thought.
“That could mean he’s a good cook, a mechanic, a carpenter, or a masseuse. He needs to be good with his hands in every mundane life; because contrary to what you were about to say if he’s good with his hands in mundane trivial things then he should be able to use his hands lovingly on your body.”
She drank.
“Also, he needs to be wise enough to know his strengths and weaknesses do he is wealthy.”
“We have enough money I don’t care about that.” She said.
I just looked at her. Once again she drank. So did I.
“I know that honey. It just shows he’s got desire, passion, and a plan for his future and maybe someone else with him.” “She drank again.
“He needs to have an artistic side. Not that he needs to be a prodigy in music or paint, but he needs to be creative enough to be spontaneous and able to surprise you.” She drank.
“He needs to be well fit. Not that he needs to be sexy buff but so he can be strong when you’re not. He needs to be strong enough to protect you when you can’t protect yourself.” She drank another shot.
“He’s has to want a decent size family.” One more drink was drunk.
“He also needs to be a great lover. He needs to know how to hold you for each mood you’re in.”
“Da-a-ad” she said in that “good grief” melody everyone knows while turning a darker shade of red than the alcohol had already instilled. She drank.
“Continuing with that last one, he needs to be willing to delay his own pleasure and desires for yours so you both can enjoy the throes of ecstasy.” She started to drink again but I stopped her. “How did I do?”
“Not bad. But hearing those things then there can only be one man for me.” She said. “You or someone very much like you.”
I drank.
There was a long break of silence again.
“How about some music?” she suggested.
“Sounds good.”
She turned on the music system and hit buttons to start a random shuffle of songs. The Beatles’ “In My Life” was the first to play.
Tasha stood by the player and just swayed to the music. I couldn’t help but watch her with a smile on my face. Four hours ago she had walked in on me in drag. We talked as if nothing had changed, but in reality we were closer than ever before. It was now 2am, we both were drunk, and there she stood swaying her hips to the music.
She looked up to see me watching her dance alone. She beaconed me to join her for the dance. I did. She hit replay to make the song loop as I approached.
At first we danced like typical grade school kids do; arms stretched out and as far apart as possible but still be together. Then she just pulled herself into my arms. I wrapped my arms tenderly around her and held her to me. I could feel the heat of her chest radiating into mine. The smell of her perfume, hair, and her wafted into my nostrils. Our bodies swayed together as Lennon sweetly sings of memories and love. I was a great moment for us. I felt her stir and lift her head.
Our eyes met. The language of love rang without a sound. The next thing I knew her lips were moving up to meet mine and mine lowering to hers. Our lips met softly. Our eyes shut. John was singing, for the third time.
“But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new”
How kiss grew in passion. Mouths opened and our show of affection matured. Then tongues advanced. My head spun. I don’t know if was the passion or the alcohol that caused my body to tremble. It was likely a little of both. I pulled her closer to me and felt the unsteady rhythm of her breathing against my own short breaths. Her nipples were hard and easily noticeable through our thin fabric shirts.
I felt my own body part become hard and stiff. I did nothing to hide it. Tasha noticed. She let one of her hands drop from around my neck and slid it in between us and began stroking my growing length through the cotton threads. I broke our kiss and moaned. Her fingers felt great gripping my girth.
She then began pushing my shorts down off my hips until there wasn’t enough tension in the elastic to keep them up on my body. I was now naked from the waist down before my daughter. Her hands ran back up my thighs and then under my shirt on my chest. Her forearms lifted my shirt up and her lips found purchase on my smooth pecs. I tugged my shirt completely off and tossed it aside. I was completely naked before my daughter and I was enjoying it.
Slowly she kissed her way down my body. Her full tits slid along my throbbing shaft as she kissed her way down my abdomen. Finally her lips made contact with my shaft and I just about collapsed to the floor.
Her warm wet mouth and active tongue began savoring every inch of my erection. I watched in amazement as her beautiful mouth stretched around it and began sliding up and down on its veiny ridges. Every now and then she would look up at me through long dark black lashes with gleaming eyes and smile up at me. She sucked my cock for a good 5-6 minutes. I didn’t last any longer than that before warning her of my impending eruption. She just sucked harder and more feverously. I grunted out “Oh god. Tasha your mouth is soOOOoo good.”
She didn’t miss a drop. I had to beg her to stop because the feeling became so intense. She did only to slide back up my body, kissing as much skin along the way. Our lips and tongues met again. I tasted my own cum on hers. I had similar occurrences happen in the past but never liked the taste of my own cum. This time was different. This time the taste of Tasha’s mouth and tongue sweetened the enjoyment.
I scooped her up in my arms and carried her to my king size bed. I had bought a new one more to my liking after her mom died so there were so feelings of betrayal taking a new woman to my bed; in fact Tasha was the first. I set her down carefully at the foot of my bed. First I pulled her shirt off over her head. Her natural scent along with her sweet blossom perfume swirled around my head. I began kissing areas of exposed flesh around her neck and the top of her breasts. Her hands guided my head to the area she wanted kissed as she moaned in pleasure while I slowly freed her tits from their underwire confinement. Once free she guided me straight to her nipples which were dark and hard.
I traced my tongue around each and kissed all around the nipple teasing her. Finally, I positioned my mouth, open, over one nipple and let my hot breath caress her. She moaned in anticipation. I then took the first nipple in my mouth and rolled my tongue all around it before suckling it.
“Oh, god, Dad. That feels so good.”
I kissed and suck on each of her tits bringing her off to a micro orgasm. My kisses then began a long slow journey south. When I reached the top of her jeans I slowly unzipped and unfastened them while making constant eye contact. She was biting her lower lip playfully. I slowly tugged off the jeans and kissed my way up her left leg until I got to her cotton panty covered mound. I gripped the sides of the powder blue colored garment and took them off. Tasha was massaging her own tits heightening her pleasure. I then kissed my way up her right leg as I did the left. I traced tiny shapes and letters with my tongue all over her creamy calves and thighs.
Once I was a breath away from her glistening slit, I opened her legs more and placed my first kiss on her outer labia. Her wetness coated my lips. I licked them off savoring her sweet tangy taste. I lapped her folds from vagina to clit where I paused and kissed. Her shaved mound looked so sweet and innocent. Her rosebud was swollen and exposed from its hood. I kissed it long and tenderly, lightly flicking my tongue across its surface.
“Oh fuck!” Tasha cried out.
I went back to sliding my tongue along her slit, delving deeper and deeper into her with each lash. After about 15 slow laps, I slowly stuck my tongue deep inside her. I was trying to get every tasty drop of her nectar. I began thrusting my tongue in and out of her like a mini penis. She squirmed uncontrollable under me.
I finally release her from my mouth music. I smiled down at her. I couldn’t believe that she and I were doing this. There were no protests. It was happening naturally and lovingly. I’m sure the liquor had a bit to do with that but neither of us cared.
“Make love to me, Daddy” she said. “I want you to fill me up with that beautiful cock of your.”
Who was I to deny her? I climbed up her body kissing her from navel to lips. When our bodies where nearly eye to eye, with my chest up off hers, I was amazed that my tip seemed to line up perfectly with her entrance. I could feel the moist heat coaxing my gland.
Tasha wrapped her legs up over my hips and around my back, and pulled my down to kiss her. With our tongues dancing, she pulled me in. She gasped as my thick rod opened her up. Slowly I pushed in to her.
“Wow.” was all she could get out. I fed her hole more and more or my shaft, until all 10 inches were deep in her.
“You’re so tight, baby” I commented. “You feel so good”
Slowly I began working my penis in and out of her. I looked down and watched her skin get pushed and pulled with each stroke. I hadn’t noticed how exposed and close to her slit her love button was. It was getting rubbed by her stretched lips pulling on her hood. As she rolled her hips to meet my thrust it would actually make contact with the base of my shaft.
Her hands began looking for something to grab on my body. Her nails dug into my chest and my arms as she responded to her ever growing pleasure. I leaned in and began suckling on one of her nipples. I slowed my thrusting and limited my thrusting so that only the first two or three inches of her hole was being grazed by the tip of my cock.
“Yes! Right there” she cooed. “God, please don’t stop. Your big cock feels so good in my pussy, Daddy”
I counted off thirty strokes in my head before burying myself balls deep in her.
Her hand flew up around my neck and pulled me down to her. Our foreheads were touching and our eyes raging with lust, love, and desire. I began thrusting in and out of her deep, hard and fast.
“Yeah, Yeah, Yeah” was all that was said with each stroke of my cock.
I knew I wouldn’t last much longer. I took a moment and closed my eye and tried to recall the last Chicago Bears game score. I needed distraction because I wanted her to cum with me. I struggled for about 30 seconds with that thought, before she was grunting and telling me to fuck her harder.
“I’m so close, Daddy. You’re gonna make me cum again. I love you, Daddy.” She said.
Those last four words, along with what we were doing stripped the search for the score to delay my orgasm. Instead I counted down from 30 thrusting in and out as longer, deep, and hard as I could. By the time I was down to 12, Tasha went into orgasmic convulsion. She thrashed her head from side to side and her legs and hips shook uncontrollably against by body. Her legs contracted so hard I was balls deep and only able to pull out an inch or so. I felt her pussy walls spasming all around my shaft and that’s all I could take.
“I’m gonna cum, baby! I grunted in warning.
“Oh, god, yes, Daddy cum with me. Cum in my tight pussy.”
“Shit!” I cried out as the first hot eruption escaped passed my tip.
“Oooo. I can feel you cumming in me, Daddy” she said.
I came harder than ever before. Usually I can feel only 4-6 shots leave my body but her muscles just kept milking me of more and more. After my 8 or ninth splash inside her womb, I finally stopped. I looked down at my baby girl and she was crying. I kissed a tear away. Her eyes silently told me they were tears of joy. I was enjoying the same feeling.
Never in my life did making love or having sex feel so wonderful, spiritual, perfect.
I went to roll off of her but she rolled with me.
“No.” she said. “Please stay in me a little longer. You feel so good still in me.”
She was now on top of me and my cock still completely in her. Although it was softening, it was still full in her. It was like my cock and her pussy were doing everything they could to extend the pleasure and remain connected.
I fell asleep running my hand over her sweat glistened back and running it through her soft hair. I had to have stayed awake for at least 15 or twenty more minute. The whole time I was still in her, slowly becoming softer. I think she fell asleep just a minute or two before me.
The next thing I remember was waking to the two of us in the same position and her just smiling up at me.
Read 102618 times |
Rated 90.3 % |
(176 votes)
Rated 90.3 % |
(176 votes)
Please rate this text:
sex stories,free sex stories,erotic stories,sex,stories,taboo,story