People say that when life is getting them down. Something bad happens: "Fuck ... me!"
If you think about it, why are you saying that you want someone to have sex with you when things turn to shit?
I'm thinking about this because that's what happened. Life took a turn for the worse, and then...
At 18 years old you think you can take on the world; that you're immortal. Usually something happens that, in no uncertain terms, tells you that you're wrong. A broken bone, or a near-death experience in a car, or...
... or your Mom suddenly dying. One moment she was with us and life was good, and the next she was being rushed to the hospital. Soon after she was dead, the victim of a brain hemorrhage. The doctor said it could have happened to anyone.
But it wasn't just anyone ... it was Mom! My Mommy...
Dad took us back home after we left the hospital. It was just him and his two daughters now ... well, stepdaughters. He had met Mom 11 years ago, when Stacy and I (I'm Robyn) were just 5 and 7, and they had married almost 2 years later. We didn't remember our biological dad (BioDad, as Mom used to call him), who took off before Stacy was born. In our minds Cal was our Dad.
It took a while for all of us to get to sleep that first night. I just lay in bed, tossing and turning. Finally, it was 1 AM and I had to pee.
As I left my room I could sense someone was in the kitchen. My eyes adjusted to the light and I could see Dad shuffling about in there.
"Dad?" I called. He turned to me and seemed to pause. I moved closer. As I did so I realized he wasn't wearing a shirt. And a moment later I realized he also wasn't wearing pants ... or underwear!
"Ack!" I gurgled, averting my eyes. "Dad! What're you doing in here, naked?!" He didn't answer. "Dad?" I turned back to him, keeping my eyes on his face. He just stood there.
"DAD!" I yelled.
He dropped like a stone. As he hit the floor he started screaming and screaming, his limbs flailing. Stacy bolted out of her room, looking as terrified as I felt.
I was about to call 9-1-1 when Dad stopped. Just ... stopped. No movement, no noise. I leaned close and could hear him breathing slowly. He was asleep.
He seemed to be okay so we covered him with a blanket and went back to our own beds, frightened and confused.
In the morning Dad asked if he had been sleepwalking last night, as he had woken up on the kitchen floor. We said he had, and told him what had happened.
"I'm sorry girls," he said, looking extremely tired. "I used to do that when I was growing up; haven't done it in at least 15 years. Hopefully it won't happen again, but if it does please don't try to wake me. My doctor said that the shock could..."
We waited. Dad looked sheepish. "I have a heart murmur. A shock like that and I could have a heart attack. Just leave me to wander about ... maybe lightly direct me back to bed, but no loud noises or jolting, okay?"
Stacy and I looked at each other. We could lose Dad too! We turned back to him and nodded. We would make sure he stayed safe.
We stayed home from school and Dad from work for a few days. When one of us would cry the other two would group hug so we could share strength. Dad hadn't sleepwalked since that first night.
When the day of the funeral arrived we buried Mom and said our goodbyes. The rain made it seem like the whole world was crying, not just us. During the reception I decided to ask Gran, Dad's Mom, about his sleepwalking.
"Oh dear, he's doing that again, is he?" she asked, looking around for Dad.
I took her hand. "Gran, is it true that waking him up while he's sleepwalking could kill him?"
She looked sad. "Yes, dear. I thought he grew out of it, but the recent loss of your Mom must have affected him deeply." She thought for a moment. "He'll need your help Robyn. Please do what you can for him." It seemed like she wanted to say something else, but instead she patted my hand and turned away.
That night I awoke to the sound of the kitchen chairs being moved around. I grabbed my bathrobe and went to see what was going on.
Dad was in the kitchen again, as naked as before, moving the table and chairs into a new configuration. I realized as he pushed the end of the table against the wall that it made more space in the kitchen's dining area, but now there was only room for 3 chairs. Was his subconscious trying to adapt to the new family dynamic by doing this?
When he was done I whispered that he should go to bed, and I gently steered him that way. He complied and then I did likewise.
Dad didn't sleepwalk for a couple of days, and then one night I awoke to find that I was not alone in my bed!
I turned to see him sleeping next to me in the dim light coming through the window from the street lamp. He was just sleeping, not in that weird in-between state. He was, again, naked.
He was on top of the covers and I was under them, so I just let him sleep there and returned to dreamland. In the morning he was gone.
Dad, Stacy, and I returned to work and school, respectively. It was hard, but the familiarity of school made it easier as the day went on.
Not so for Dad. He was already home when we got back after school. He said he broke down and cried during a meeting and had to come home. We hugged him and had a good cry together.
In the early morning I woke up with "the itch". I decided to have a shower and take care of it while everyone else slept. As the warm water cascaded down my (if I don't say so myself) sexy teenaged body I played with my clit and dipped my fingers into my pussy as my other hand tweaked one of my nipples. Soon I was gasping and shaking as I came. It was a relief to experience some pleasure after the horrible week I'd had.
I dried off, tied the towel above my boobs so it hung like a short dress on me, and then opened the bathroom door to let out some of the steam that was fogging up the mirror.
That fogginess was why I didn't see Dad coming up from behind me until his arms were around me, one hand going to my left boob while the other slipped under the towel, sliding up my thigh towards my pussy. He started to kiss the back of my neck.
"Oh!" I cried out in surprise, and then I mentally cursed myself. Despite this sudden crazy assault I realized that Dad must have been sleepwalking again, as he had never touched me in a sexual way; not ever. I needed to stop him, but not wake him up!
Except ... his hand was manipulating my clit by this point. My towel had fallen to the floor, and his other hand, unblocked, was now squeezing my boob. I was completely naked, with my likewise completely naked stepfather sexually assaulting me in his sleep!
"Daddeee..." I hissed.
"Oh, Diane..." I heard him whisper, "I miss you baby."
He thought I was Mom! What could I do?
I felt something hard bump the bottom of one of my butt cheeks, and I jumped. That ... was that his cock?
Dad was actually pretty good with his hands. He was making my clit and boob feel really good. That, combined with the passionate kisses on the back of my neck, was starting to make the pleasurable feelings stronger than my fear.
Throw water in his face? Call out for Stacy? All of those would probably wake him up. Oh, right...
"Dad, go to bed," I said quietly but forcefully.
In response Dad lowered his hips and I felt what was definitely his hard cock move under my butt and forward, the tip just about reaching its target. No, he mustn't! "Dad..." I started to repeat.
Dad pushed my head forward over the sink, bending me over and giving him a better angle. I felt the tip of his cock nudge between my pussy lips.
NO! I tried to move to the side but by this time he had transferred his hands to my hips, shoving my pelvis forward into the front of the sink and holding me fast.
I felt his cock start to push into me slowly. "Daddeee, nooo..." I said, but not too loudly. My vagina was well lubricated from my shower masturbation; there was no pain as he pushed more of his cock inside me. In fact, I'm ashamed to say it but, it actually felt good!
'No, not good, ' a voice somewhere in the back of my mind cried, 'this is bad!'
Daddy pulled his cock out a bit and relief washed over me, but only for a moment before he pushed it back in harder, sinking it even deeper inside my hot, wet channel. I gasped at the sensation that I had only felt once before with a boy that had caught me in a weak moment a couple months back. That, however, had been with a condom, and this felt even better skin on skin!
No condom ... oh God ... as Dad once again pulled back a bit and then thrust even deeper inside me I struggled to remember my monthly cycle. Why couldn't I think straight?
Dad thrust a few more times, getting deeper and deeper inside my possibly fertile pussy each time. Finally, he was pressed against my butt cheeks and his cock was all the way inside. I felt so incredibly full!
He moved his hands from my hips up to my breasts, squeezing and pinching. I really like playing with them when I masturbate ... this additional pleasure didn't help the situation.
Dad started to thrust into me, slowly at first. I was gasping, overwhelmed by the pleasurable stretching feeling of his thick cock sliding in and out while my boobs were being groped and my nipples tweaked. My mind, overwhelmed by pleasurable sensations, was no longer trying to work out how to stop this. Drool slipped out of the corner of my mouth.
Dad was now thrusting harder, getting a good rhythm as my hips rebounded off of the sink and back into his next thrust.
.... There is more of this story ...