Oh Daddy! - Teasing Daddy

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I've had friends and family telling me that they've seen her and the guy frequenting out the way travel lodges...

Each and every time, she'd be totally out of breath, panting, running out of our bedroom and running down the stairs to meet me and our daughter.OH GOD DADDY!" I moan loudly and then the knot in my stomach goes away and I feel an amazing rush of pleasure. Daddy lifts his head and removes his fingers. I don’t know when I went from wanting his approval of my own body, to wanting to see his. Though it was only fair that I got to see him if he got to see me. I loved her, so, I just avoided the subject, along with the thousand questions running through my head.

Like autonomous drones, we both got up and went upstairs and into the secluded movie watching lounge area.

Upcoming

The first day after my dad finally got me that new bike, I set my alarm half an hour later, knowing I’d have plenty more time that day.

Nothing like this just randomly happens. Hell I wouldn't be surprised if they put something in your drink to make you feel this way. If you didn't remember what happened. Then you were too intoxicated to give consent. Their office didn't care, and I plainly actually love my wife, to care about anything so trivial. If it made her happy, I'm on board with it.

18.

I made sure he did not have the remote nearby, so he had no choice but to place his hand somewhere on me. He chose my knee. Daddy pulled my face towards His, and kissed me. It wasn’t a soft, fatherly kiss. It was hungry, lustful, and primal. He forced my mouth open to receive His tongue. I wanted to fight Him, but my body responded to His touch. The moment His tongue touched mine, I melted in His arms. Daddy took His hand away from under my chin, and wrapped it around my waist. He held me steady as His tongue darted in and out of my mouth, slowly twisting and dancing with my tongue. This was wrong, and I knew it in my mind. My Daddy had raped me, and stole my virginity, and He was going to defile me again tonight! But for whatever reason, all common sense left me as His tongue ravaged my mouth. I stood there as limp as a raggedy doll, only being held up by His good arm. I’ve seen pictures were you were holding me as a babe and you carried me with your hand there.” I replied. “When did it become too intimate? It hasn’t changed much, except for some hair.” It was a habit I kept for a long time after those days -- I'd make myself come but not in the presence of others. It was like a vestige of Daddy; for a long, long time, only Daddy would make me come. Chris gave me a lot: He replaced my father as the man who kept me front and center in his gaze, something I so desperately needed. But here's the catch, something I didn't think about until recently. How did the girls know? How had this rumor managed to get passed down? Who else played with Mr. Bernard? At the time I thought it was only natural curiosity for the male form. I did not get the chance to see guys my age undress, unless they’d expect more to happen. They were basically boys anyway. My father was a man and would be my role-model for the male figure.

I didn't need him anymore. I had developed something of a relationship with a real boy, Jeff, a kid in the new neighborhood. Jeff would beg me to let him kiss and touch me, and I would tell him no. That expression of my power made me feel great. Here someone was sexually focused on me, which made me feel alive. But at the same time, I was able to prove to myself that I wasn't an awful person because I didn't let him do things to me. As an added bonus, I had the opportunity to reject unwanted sexual advances, something I was never able to do with Dad. Well, once you became a teenager, you made it quite clear to me that you didn’t like hugs and kisses anymore.” My dad explained. “Though if you’re naughty enough, I might still spank you.” He teased. A robe so short, that it never actually covered more than top quarter half of her amazing butt, and barely covered the areolas of her elegantly massive breasts. He wrapped his arms around my chest and pulled me closer. “More hugs for my little girl. Got it!” He said. I wonder if he noticed I wasn’t wearing a bra underneath that shirt. He looked at me in the mirror, my towel was hanging low and revealing a large part of my breasts. “Yes, but I didn’t want to waste time waiting.” He said.The next time I did it, I waited again until he was watching something that interested him enough to stay seated even while I crawled into his lap. Recently I read that national radio host Tom Leykis urged his male listeners to "hit on" female victims of incest and sexual abuse: "If you think that a woman's more likely to put out, or more likely to be good in bed because she has a history of abuse, is it wrong to try to find that out and then go for the gold?" At first I cringed in anger that the comment had been made, but then I cringed in shame, knowing that in some ways the comment described me. I had been promiscuous. I had gone out of my way to make sure that my lovers thought I was a talented sexual partner. Your Step-father and his friend took advantage of you while you were drunk. Sure you instigated it but it doesn't mean he should have acted on it, much less even taken a video on it. Jesus, this is messed up on so many levels. And your mom trying to justify it is just the cherry on the top of all red flags that should be going off in your head. Eventually, my father remarried and the whole thing came to a halt. My "friend" Charlotte disappeared and I experienced a strange combination of relief and grief. Despite how horrible it was, I lost something when my father stopped being sexual with me. I felt like I lost his attention, his affection and his adoration. Those feelings, wrapped up so tightly in those interactions with him, had become my world, and suddenly that stopped. It traumatized me in all new ways.