I Need To Talk

Two years! Two years I had been having sexual intercourse with boys. I had lost count of how many times I'd fucked some guy just to let him get his rocks off and leave me wanting – no begging – for an orgasm. I knew I could have one, I'd been diddling myself with my middle finger for years, always finding the big "O" in the end. Just never with a boy. I was embarrassed to admit to such a dilemma to any of my girlfriends. They often bragged about how many times they came during sex. So far I was unable to crack the code. But things were to change very soon.

My friend Mike had just dropped me off at home – I live with my mom and dad – we had been at Mike's apartment having sex and, well, I always felt this way after sex with a boy I just needed to be alone to lament my inability to have an orgasm.

My father was home and sitting at the kitchen table when I walked in. He noticed me and asked if I wanted to join him for a bowl of ice cream.

"No thanks Dad." I mumbled.

"What's wrong honey?" He asked, suddenly concerned.

"Oh, nothing really..."

"Something's wrong baby let me help."

"Well..."

I had a very open relationship with my father, he knew I had been sexually active from my very first time, but this was a little creepy to discuss with your dad.

"It's kind of personal, you know?"

"No, not unless you explain it to me." Dad sounded as sympathetic as always.

"Well all my friends have, you know, like when you have sex..." My mouth was suddenly dry. "They have orgasms and, well, I don't..."

"You've never had an orgasm?" Dad asked in a level tone trying to make it easier for me to answer.

"Yes, I mean no, well I haven't."

Dad smiled, placed his hand on my shoulder in a consoling manner and said, "That's not unusual for a young girl. Your mom and I were together for over six months before she had one, why should you be any different?"

He made it sound normal. "But Dad, every time I begin to feel good the boys, well, they finish first and I never get to have mine."

"Oh I see." Dad seemed to understand my frustration now. "We used to call that 'quick draw McGraw'." Dad said with a smile.

"What do you mean Dad?"

"Well, the young boys haven't learned to make it last. They just hop on and off, happy that they have had the opportunity, not realizing that really good sex is about exploring your limits of endurance while maintaining the arousal of the libido."

"Wow." I mused, suddenly aroused to hear my father speak so plainly of such a prurient act. I smiled as I had a naughty thought; I bet my dad could ring my bell!

As I sat there listening to my father explain how two lovers should respect one-another, I became so aroused that when I stood up it was without any restraint of conscience. I put my hand between my legs and pulled my panties down and dropped them on the floor. Dad quit talking and just stared at me. I pulled my skirt up my hips and then reached for his zipper. In one practiced movement his pants were open and my hand clutched his meaty prize through the opening in his boxer shorts.

I stroked a couple of times and then mounted his lap facing him. He began to protest, but I covered his mouth with mine, tongues lapping and our breath huffing as I positioned my father at the opening to my sopping sex. I gave no thought to the fact that I still had Mike's semen inside me. I took a ragged breath and pushed myself fully onto his engorged penis. Dad had quit his protestations. I began to undulate on his lap, reveling in the salaciousness of our sordid coupling.

Dad became animated under me. Unable to sit still he leaned forward in the chair, forcing me backward. He stood up holding tightly to my lower back. I clung tenaciously to his neck, as he stood up more of him filled me, much to my delight.

Dad started forcefully penetrating me as he held me suspended in midair. Gradually increasing his pace, he was soon ramming into me with abandon. His breathing was measured and deep, his nostrils flared like a rampaging beast. I watched as the veins in his forehead looked like they could rupture at any minute, still he kept up the furious pace.

Then as if on cue a wonderful warm glow began to wash over me. Like a tidal wave of emotion cascading from somewhere deep inside my soul. I had finally found my orgasm – in the clutches of my own father!

I screamed out loud, "I'm cumming Dad, I'm cumming!"

Dad held himself fully inside me and I could feel his surging penis as he began squirting his seed inside me. As his ejaculation subsided he gently stroked a few times and then allowed me to lean back on the kitchen counter.

I kissed him passionately, not as my father, but as a lover.

"Oh Dad, I never knew it could be this way." I marveled.

"Honey, I have to say that I didn't know it could be so good either!"

"Oh my..." I began, but a wave of emotion coursed though me. Gasping, I exclaimed, "Dad no one has ever made me feel this way..." Then I began to sob.

"We better clean up, your mom will be home soon."

That night I couldn't sleep. Early in the morning, exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster I was on, I crept to my father's room.

I stood above my father and wondered what he must think of me; what he was going to think if I found the courage to wake him up just to give me another orgasm.

I was losing my nerve. I started to leave when I heard Dad's voice, "What's wrong Baby?"

I was caught. I had to commit now. "Dad I need to talk." I said and walked quietly into the hall. I waited wondering if he would be willing to chance it with mom in the house.

He appeared in the doorway and gently closed the door behind him. "What's wrong?" he asked again.

Wringing my hands in desperation I had only nervous energy to guide me. "Dad I really need you, can you Dad? Please?"

With a look of concern over his shoulder he nodded his assent and led me downstairs, through the kitchen and into the garage. He motioned for me to get a sleeping bag that was hanging from a shelf against the wall. I grabbed it and handed it to him. He spread it on his work bench and lifted me onto it. I began cooing like a bitch in heat.

Dad pulled my pajama bottoms down and buried his face between my legs and I gasped as his tongue began lapping my clit. I reveled in his touch; his raw sexual prowess overwhelmed me. In moments I was thrusting my crotch against his face while holding onto his head in a desperate attempt to force it even tighter against me.

Then it began. I was cumming on my father's face! "Oh Dad." I exclaimed.

As we slowed, Dad gently rubbed my belly and thighs with his hands. I always felt so secure in those hands as a little girl. Now I felt the exaltation they could bring through a sensual touch.

Dad stood up and was visibly uncomfortable; his erection was at an odd angle in his pajamas. I giggled and helped him remove them and then, on tippy-toes I spread my legs, leaning back on the workbench.

Dad stroked himself and then moved between my legs. He dipped his knees to position himself at my opening, probed gently and then pressed up into my core. He stroked slowly this time, taking his time as if he was being more deliberate.

He moved his hands under my pajama top and began to knead my breasts. He rolled my nipples between his thumb and fingers, unlike when the boys did it, Dad really knew how to make a girl feel good.

I was really enjoying the gentle ministrations of my father, but soon I realized that what I really wanted was to be fucked senseless. Just as the thought occurred to me Dad pulled out spun me around and bent me over. I grasped the leg of the workbench for support just as Dad reentered me from behind. He pounded into me with a passion redoubled. I could feel the helmeted crown of his penis as it rubbed the bottom of my clit, but I wanted more so I undulated in time with his stroking. It was getting real good! Then his penis pulled too far out and when he rammed forward it slammed directly into my sensitive clit. I howled out in pain, but as I did Dad reentered me and pushed deep inside.

I began my orgasm as Dad began his. I gasped out loud, "Fuck me Dad, fuck me!" He rammed into me harder as he spewed his lascivious seed inside my tender belly.

Dad was exhausted. I was exhausted, finally sated. My lust for the big "O" finally fulfilled. We kissed and went to our separate beds.

My last thoughts were of what my father was feeling about our sordid coupling. Was he bothered by what we were doing? I felt nothing approaching remorse. I really felt elated about the whole idea that I could have really good sex with someone I loved, even if it was my dad.

I wanted to be with Dad again, but mom seemed to get in our way whenever I made an attempt. How in the hell do people have affairs and manage to get away with it? We live in the same house and it is damn near impossible to pull it off. I was lusting for Dad and was just about to drag him to a motel if we didn't find a way around mom. I know – we were cheating on my mother. But it just didn't seem that way to us, he was my dad and what we shared belonged to us, no one else.

Mike and I had a date for Saturday night and as usual we went to his place after dinner and a movie. We fucked like rabbits but the whole while I was thinking of Dad when Mike was between my legs. Then I began comparing Mike to Dad as lovers. Bad move. Mike was a real cute boy but had none of my dad's skills. I couldn't work up an orgasm and I left frustrated.

As Mike was driving me home I texted my dad saying "I need to talk."

Dad was waiting as I came into the living room. "Where's mom?" I asked, a little too obviously.

"Kitchen, cleaning up. You said you needed to talk?"

"Umm humm, remember what we talked about the other night?" I paused for effect.

Dad was clearly uncomfortable; as he squirmed he shook his head as a warning, then motioned toward the kitchen and held his finger to his lips, requesting silence.

Just then mom burst through the kitchen door and announced that her friend, Monica, had just had her baby and she was going to go visit her in the hospital.

The gods had smiled on us after all. Mom hurried out and said she shouldn't be too late. She hadn't cleared the driveway and I was on my father, stripping him bare.

Both of us naked on the living room floor, writhing and caressing, kissing as if we were long lost lovers, we melded into one-another.

Dad asked me if I had been with a boy. I nodded yes. He asked, "Is his seed inside you?"

"Yes" I demurred.

"But you still need me?"

"Please Dad." I pleaded.

He placed me on my back and entered me. We fucked, and I came three times that night. Dad was exhausted or I might have had more!

One weekend while my mom was away visiting family, I just stayed in Dad's bed with him. Life had become a complex series of relationships that Dad and I had to carefully manage minute to minute. Mike had dropped in on Saturday for a quickie in his back seat; I obliged him and then showered and had sex with Dad. I was getting an education. Dad taught me things that I never dreamed of, nor dared suggest to my boyfriends.

The saddest day of my life was when I went away to attend college. I came home often, but the distance complicated my sex life. Then I found a boy at school that could ring my bell just like Dad. Ken was a wonderful lover and truly appreciated my sexual repertoire. We married after graduation and life held a wonderful potential for us.

While on our honeymoon I sent Dad a text "I need to talk."

His reply was a single character, "?"

"I'll explain..." I replied.

On the way back from the Caribbean, We stopped in to see Mom and Dad for few days.

While my husband slept on the porch and Mom prepared dinner, Dad and I wandered off to the back yard and talked.

"I've missed you terribly Dad."

"Me too Baby."

"Dad, I've given a great deal of thought to our relationship and I'd like to pick up where we left off."

"I don't know Baby, you're a married woman now and you should be true to your husband."

I pouted and said as sadly as I could muster, "Then, you don't want to..."

I must have looked pathetic because Dad hugged me close and confided, "I think of little else, even when..."

"When you're with Mom?"

He nodded humbly.

"I know the feeling Dad, I dream of you often."

He smiled, and said, "We'll see Baby, we'll see."

That night, while everyone else was asleep, Dad took me to the garage and we made love late into the night.

We met like this from time to time. Our love affair was affirmed by the very fact that we could meet without cause or concern, no one questioned our affinity for each other; it was a natural assumption that a daughter would be with her father, what no one could know was that we were also lovers.

Some months after our honeymoon, Mom was away for a few days and Dad and I had made plans to be together. I had intentionally chosen a night that I knew Ken would want to watch baseball on TV. I made a casserole to feed Dad as a pretense for spending the evening with him. I even had had Ken drive me to Dad's house, and asked that he pick me up after the game. Figuring an hour until the game started and three hours for the game, Dad and I had plenty of time together.

I kissed my husband goodbye and walked to the house as calmly as I could manage. Dad was excited to see me, we hadn't been together for a couple of weeks and the tension was palpable.

We wasted no time. We unclothed and fell to the floor in the middle of the living room. I positioned myself on my back and Dad pounced between my legs. Entering me with a forceful thrust, he made me yelp as his stiff man-meat pulled my labia painfully inward. After several panicky thrusts he was successful and began to stroke methodically into me.

I was just beginning to match Dad's rhythm when, to my abrupt surprise I looked up and saw Ken standing in the open doorway with the casserole dish in his hands, mouth wide open, disbelief plastered on his face.

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed.

Dad raised his head and looked into my eyes as they held my husband's astonished glare. Dad turned his head, but continued his assault on my vagina.

On seeing Ken standing there Dad moaned "Oh fuck!" and then began to ejaculate into me.

The conflux of emotions: The cheating, the incest, the deceitful manipulations, all came flooding over me simultaneously with my father's ejaculation. I closed my eyes and began the most intense orgasm of my life. At that moment nothing else existed, but the powerful throbbing of my inner being. I bucked up to my father, urging him deeper, faster, harder.

My husband could wait.

I was gasping for breath, I had stopped breathing, I was coughing and cumming, gagging and convulsing, the room spun violently, and then all was black.

I awoke in a strange room, IVs attached to my arm, and monitors beeping and humming incessantly. I tried to sit up, but couldn't, I was too weak. I looked left and saw just a closed door. I looked right and there asleep in a chair was Ken. What a strange dream I had had. Dad was there and so was Ken... Then it slowly came back to me. What had happened, what Dad and I were doing when my husband walked in with the casserole. Oh shit I had forgotten the casserole. I closed my eyes and moaned out loud "What tangled webs we weave..."

"Are you awake?" Ken stood beside me and grasped my hand.

I wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. "Yes." I managed instead.

"You sure gave us a scare." He said with genuine concern.

But why wasn't he angry? He should be furious. "What happened?"

"You fainted, partly from exertion..." He paused to clear his throat.

"Oh god." I blushed from the humiliation of my husband seeing me on the floor with my father's stiff meat in me.

"Partly from your condition." He continued.

"What condition?" I wondered aloud.

"Honey, you're pregnant." He looked down at me smiling, as I tried to get my mind to understand what was happening.

A nurse came in and ushered my husband out. Then she gave me a wonderful cocktail through my IV that allowed me to sleep through the night.

Back at home I was beginning to feel well again, I avoided discussing with Ken the sordid affair with my father. He didn't press and that made it doubly hard to avoid the subject. It finally came out when Mom invited us over for Sunday brunch.

Ken asked if it would be awkward to be together without clearing the air first.

I sent Dad a text, "I need to talk."

Dad responded, "Are you sure?"

I knew what he was thinking, "Can you stop by?"

"Be right there."

In ten minutes Dad was sitting in our living room with my husband and me. As I began to explain how Dad and I had started our licentious affair both men allowed me to relate the details without interruption. Dad had slowly lowered his head to his hands as the tale of our incestuous behavior had grown into a relationship which dwarfed any other relationship we had with anyone else, even our spouses.

Ken squirmed in his seat, and repositioned his groin from time to time. The story was affecting him, arousing him. Finally I came to the night that he had caught us together.

"Honey I'm sorry that I lied to you. The whole story about the dinner casserole was a ruse to be with Dad."

Ken was nodding his head, looking from me to my father and back again. "How often are you together with your daughter?"

His voice seemed odd, neither he nor Dad had spoken since I had begun explaining the affair. But he had directed his question to Dad and I worried it could escalate out of control quickly; I tensed.

Dad began by looking at me appreciatively, "Perhaps too often... Then again not often enough." He looked at Ken, leveled his gaze and continued, "You of all people know of what I speak. There is no better lover in the world."

I was shocked and flattered at my father's admission. What was he trying to do?

But my husband just nodded, stating matter-of-factly, "Yes I do understand."

It was Dad's turn to be the inquisitor, "Now that you know how we feel, what is it that you are feeling, how do you feel about the situation?"

Ken thought for a long moment, then began to explain himself, "If I had suspected, or had some notion it was happening I think I would have reacted much differently than I did."

He paused for a moment, and then continued, "Watching your father between your legs was the single most erotic thing I have ever witnessed. You were so good together, it was unnerving, arousing. It was the last thing I expected and first thing I saw. Watching you cum with your father was enlightening; I understood as I watched you, it required no explanation, no excuses. I am confused, though, as to where I fall in to all this. Am I the chump, a cuckold?"

"Oh no, honey, I never meant for this to affect us." I insisted.

"It has affected us though." My husband enjoined.

"What my daughter and I share is something special, it is not a zero-sum game, and you haven't been deprived of anything as far as I see it." My father said firmly.

Dad was actually trying to justify our affair as legitimate.

My husband looked at us both and asked, "Well, I guess the question is what we do from here on out?"

Dad sat silently, deferring to me I suppose. I wondered what my husband would do if I said that I wanted to continue with Dad? Would he bolt for the door?

He saved us the trouble of a decision. "I guess if you guys are so adamant about this that we could make accommodations."

Dad and I both perked up, I was suddenly elated; he was giving us permission to continue.

I couldn't restrain my joy, "Oh Honey, thank you, thank you." I leapt into his arms and hugged him.

My joy must have been a little too much, because he began to add conditions rather quickly, "I want to know when you will be together, no more surreptitious behavior. If I want to monitor your getting together, there will be no argument. And once in a while I would like to do a three way with you."