My name is Anne and I’m fourteen years old. I am what you might describe as a “mousey” girl. I am not ugly, but I’m totally unremarkable to look at. I am the girl they would label “teen girl #3” in the credits of a movie.
I have very light brown hair that I wear shoulder length. I’m five feet, three inches tall, and I weigh eighty pounds. My breasts started growing when I was twelve, but they grew slowly. My bra is still an A Cup. It doesn’t feel like my boobs are going to grow any more. I like the way my tits are cone shaped, and my nipples are really pointy.
I’m obviously skinny, but I don’t look skeletal. When I strip and look at myself in the mirror, I think I look properly proportioned to be healthy, but I don’t think I look sexy.
I do seem to have something that boys like though, and I always have a boyfriend. As close as I can figure out, I look soft to them, and they think I look like it would feel good to hold me and make out with me.
Because I don’t have an ego or think I’m beautiful, right after my birthday, I started dating guys who are nerds. They are so glad to get a date at all, they don’t gossip, and never tell the thing about me that helps me keep boyfriends a lot longer than most teenage girls: I never say, “No.”
I like sex, and I like it a lot. I’ve been cock crazy since I gave up my cherry, the day after my fourteenth birthday. That means I like to have sex a lot. If a boy can learn how to make me cum and can learn to last long enough to get me off at least five times in a row, he will get all the pussy he ever dreamed of.
I’m not one of those girls that over-thinks everything. I don’t care about the “state of our relationship,” or any of that other emotional horseshit. If a guy is nice to me and keeps me satisfied, I’m just fine with eating at a fast food place, or going to the drive-in.
I get “B” s in almost all my classes. I am workman-like and uninspired, according to one of my teachers. Well no shit! I will probably be a supervisor at the DMV or a department manager at Wall*Mart when I grow up. That’s about the most I can aspire to, so why bust my butt over studies when I could be on my current boyfriend’s back seat, getting my little brains screwed out?
My dad is a doctor, and he wishes I gave a shit, but he knows I’m a lost cause, and he’d rather keep things pleasant around home, so he got me an IUD, taught me about rubbers, and he hopes for the best. My anti-STD strategy is to date virgin (until I get a hold of them) boys, no one ever thought of fucking before, train them how to do me the way I like, never say no, and keep their balls drained dry, so they never have toxic sperm buildup pressure that would make them look for another girl. Rubbers are icky, so I let my boy-friends stop using them after three months or so, if they don’t run around. I do have more than one boyfriend because they can’t control whether their parents will let them go out or not, so I need to have backup. I don’t run around on them though. I always explain exactly what they will get from me. I’ve done more than one guy a day because of that, but nobody felt deprived, so I figure as long as I’m honest about it, there shouldn’t be a problem. After all, I’m no Helen of Troy, so while guys like me enough to keep me well fucked, I don’t expect any guy to fall in love with me where they can’t sleep or get crazy thinking they can’t live without me.
Now I’ve been perfectly happy with this little life of mine for a while. I never will be the Homecoming Queen, and I have no desire to date the Quarterback. I think it is realistic to think if I show a boyfriend I can keep him happy, he will want to ensure he has a lifetime supply of hot, needy pussy, and marry me after graduation. If he’s a nerd, he can probably get a good job repairing welding robots or fixing ATMs or something like that, so we ought to be able to afford a car and have a tolerable life. Besides, if sex is as important to him as it is to me, we won’t need much of an entertainment budget, and we should both be pretty happy.
My mom and I never got along. She thought she was smarter and prettier than she really was. She treated her high school friends like shit after she married my dad. As they would have said in the old days, she put on airs. Mom wanted me to do golf and tennis at the county club. She wanted me to act like I was upper class.
I did my best to avoid confrontation, and after I disappointed her enough times, she left me alone. She did like to call me a whore, and I always loudly pointed out that I had never, ever charged a guy for sex, and never would. Things weren’t warm and fuzzy at home, as you might suspect.
I never cared what the fuck Mom was doing, but I accidentally found out she was fucking both her tennis instructor and the golf pro, so if Dad wasn’t home, I had to yell at her, that while I was a slut, at least I wasn’t a double adulteress. I was glad we lived on five acres, because some of our fights got up to “Falcon Crest” or “Dynasty” volume level. I never planned to throw the first punch or rip her dress off first though.
I didn’t tell Dad about his cheating bitch of a wife because I was afraid she might rat me out to the point where he felt he had to ground me or send me to military school or something equally odious. Getting fucked and cumming a bunch of times every day was too necessary to my survival to take a chance.
I got home from what to me was a most satisfactory date with my longest-term boyfriend yet. Jack was willing to go down on me, and he had gotten good at it. I still love getting banged hard by a stiff dick the best, but if a guy is cooperative, lets me suck him off, so he can last a while when he does fuck me, and will eat me out so I can have a bunch of orgasms, the night can go so perfectly, my body is damn near floating on air when he takes me home. I do get a little sad sometimes, wishing I’d feel all dreamy in love after a guy makes me cum a bunch, or that he’d get lovey-dovey eyes after I take his load...
There were cop cars, with flashing lights all around the house. I went inside, and the deputy sheriff had Dad sitting in a chair in the living room. For some ungodly reason the guy I called “Barney Fife,” (but never to his face), had Dad handcuffed.
He made me sit down across the room from Dad. I was told I couldn’t go to my room and I couldn’t talk to, or touch Dad. I was about to smart off and ask him if he was going to handcuff me too, when Dad gave me his, “behave yourself” face, and I figured I better not mess with a man with limited intelligence who carried a gun.
The crime scene people came downstairs and gave a report to the detective who was sitting across from Dad.
The detective said, “Dr. James, the preliminary finding is that the Country Club golf pro and the tennis instructor were having affairs with your wife. The crime scene appears to show the tennis instructor murdered your wife and then the two men shot and killed each other, almost like a western shootout.
“We would like you and your daughter to go to a hotel so we can finish processing the evidence. At this time, you are not a suspect, but remember that anything you say can be used against you in a court of law. People like yourself don’t usually think of it, but it might be a good idea to retain a criminal attorney sir, so they can advise you on how to protect your rights.
“While you are not a suspect, please do not leave town until after the police clear you.
“You may go pack a bag. I’ll send an officer with you to make sure the crime scene isn’t compromised,” The detective said.
Dad looked pretty zombie-like. I asked Dad for his phone, and I called his office nurse. I told her Dad needed to close the office for a week due to his house becoming a crime scene. She told me she’d take care of it. Then I called the doctor Dad thought was competent, and asked him if he could cover for Dad’s more serious patients while the office was closed. He assured me he’d take care of it.
I handed the phone back to Dad. I decided I needed to be the one to be strong, and take care of Dad this time, so I took his hand and said, “Let’s get our stuff and get out of here so the officers can work.”
Dad followed me like a puppy.
We each went into our room to pack a bag. I’ve had a crush on my dad practically forever, but I’m a realist and never saw the point in chasing after someone I couldn’t have. That’s why I went for the nerds, because I could have any of them I wanted, and a few were nice looking. My current boyfriend was the best so far. Jack is good looking in a clean-cut, country boy way. He is muscular enough to get me hot and wet for him, and smart enough to follow instructions and get me off very, very well.
Still, Jack’s not my dream man.
Standing in front of my dresser, I made a split-second decision, and put only my sexiest lingerie, tiniest bikinis, shortest shorts, miniest-skirts, and most revealing tops in my little bag. I stripped out of my clothes, cleaned Jack’s cum out of my cunt, and then put on sexy panties, a matching lace bra, a very tiny mini-skirt, and a tight tank top. I needed to know if I showed off my body to Daddy, would he think I was sexy? Would he want me? On purpose, I didn’t pack a nightgown or pajamas.
We walked out to Dad’s black pickup. For the first time ever, Dad opened the door for me, and I smiled at him as I climbed into the big, black, four-wheel-drive Ford. I hoped he got a good look at the black lace panties I was wearing, as I climbed into the truck.
I loved the smell of the leather seats in Dad’s truck. I daydreamed about getting Dad to take me out in the woods and fuck me on the leather back seat someday. I could feel and smell fresh pussy juice soaking my little cunt. I hoped I smelled yummy to Daddy.
We drove into town and Dad took us to a nice hotel. When we were in the room, he looked horrified, and said, “Annie, I only got one bed.”
“It’s fine Daddy. It’s a big bed, and I don’t take up much room,” I joked.
He was distracted enough that he didn’t dwell on the impropriety. I called room service and ordered dinner for us. I also ordered a bottle of McAllen eighteen-year-old Single Malt Scotch. The operator didn’t want to accept the scotch order, but I remembered the voice on the phone was Felicity Adams, who graduated from my high school this spring.
“Felicity, Dad gets that from Mr. Duffy’s bar all the time. It’s not that far away. Dad could use a shot or two tonight, since his wife was murdered and our house is now a crime scene. I saw Jeremy was working, and he’s over twenty-one, so it wouldn’t be much trouble for him to run down to Duffy’s and pick up a bottle. Just tell him to have Mr. Duffy put it on Dad’s account, and then you won’t have any billing problems. I’ll make sure you and Jeremy get a little something for your trouble,” I said.
“Oh, gosh I’m sorry Anne. Tell your dad I’m sorry. Oh gosh Anne, I’m sorry about it being your mom too,” Felicity stammered.
“Thanks Felicity,” I said.
It was just another example of my invisibility, and there was no point getting upset about it. Besides, my dad was young and good looking enough I figured Felicity was a little befuddled, trying to figure out how to get Dr. James to notice that she was a recent graduate, had a shapely figure, and a reasonably attractive face.
“Look at you, Annie. The tower of strength in time of crisis. Hell, I didn’t even know you knew how to do any of that shit,” Dad said.
“I noticed you were pretty zombified, so I figured I better pay you back for the diaper changing and stuff you did for me when I was a kid,” I said.
“Well, I want you to know that using alcohol to suppress feelings and grief isn’t the preferred method, but I do seem to calm down when I taste the sherry overtones in the McAllen,” Dad admitted.
“I figured at around two-hundred dollars a bottle, you wouldn’t do too much abusing of that substance, at least. Sometime the familiar or the favorite self-treat can help get things under control.
“Now why don’t you go take a tub bath and soak in the hot water for a while. That should help your muscles loosen up while we wait for dinner. I think I saw Jacuzzi jets in the tub,” I said.
Dad got pajamas out of his bag and went toward the bathroom. He stopped in front of me and wrapped his arms around me.
“I don’t remember when you started looking and acting so grown up,” Dad said, as he kissed my cheek.
I hope Daddy felt my nipples get stiff when he embraced me! I was smiling to myself because Dad’s cock was stiff, and it was bigger than Jack’s. I don’t think I am a size queen, although I had dumped some boyfriends for not making me feel stretched when their dick was in me, but it didn’t take a horse dick to make me feel full. I was more afraid I was a Nymphomaniac. I do feel happier after sex, but never that goofy, in love feeling lots of people talk about. I was kind of reserving judgement, but the realist in me warned me that I might never get to feel that kind of romantic love or mythically great sex.
I was eager to feel Daddy’s cock inside me, filling me up, loving me, and letting me love and comfort him. I hoped my impromptu plans would be enough to bring Dad around to my way of thinking. I was also hoping Daddy didn’t have deeply held ethical beliefs about family love, so he would be easier for me to sway.
When I thought it was about five minutes before our food would arrive, I knocked on the bathroom door. Dad had fallen asleep in the tub. Fortunately, he didn’t slip under the water. I woke up Daddy and helped him get out of the tub. I wrapped a towel around him and helped him dry off. I was pleased that Dad didn’t freak out over me seeing him naked. When we got him dry, we got him into his pajamas, and I led Daddy out to the living room of the little suite.
Room service knocked. I opened the door, and they rolled in a table with grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. There was also a bucket of ice, crystal glasses, and the bottle of McAllen single malt scotch. I poured three fingers, neat, for Dad. I know how he feels about watering down good scotch. I served Dad his scotch, and I smiled inside as Dad took a sip and actually smiled. I served the food, and Dad nearly started crying.
“You always made this for me when I was sick or hurt Dad, so I thought it might have some healing power for you,” I said.
“My mom always fell apart if I got hurt, and my dad was always the one who took care of me. He gave me grilled cheese and tomato soup. That’s why I always gave them to you when you were upset or hurt,” Dad said.
We sat together on the couch, and I made sure Daddy could feel my soft female body pressed against him. We watched a romantic comedy on TV. The story was about a young woman who falls for a professor. I liked the way the girl talked about how boys her age never touched her heart and soul the way her professor did. The movie was a “B” flick, made by one of the cable movie channels, so it was a little racy. When the girl started talking about how, because the professor touched her heart and soul, he touched her body in a way that rocked her world, it made perfect sense to me. I grinned, because that was exactly what I wanted Daddy to hear, and I hope it worked out to be true for me.
The nudity in the movie was great too, because I could tell it made Dad get a boner. I squirmed around and put my head on my Daddy’s lap. My pussy got wet almost instantly, with my cheek against the hard, throbbing shaft of my father’s erect dick. It was all I could do to keep myself from unzipping his pants and swallowing my dad’s cock.
I poured Dad another three fingers of scotch. Before I did, I tasted the few drops in the bottom of the glass. Dad never let me drink, but I could tell that this was one of those times when expensive booze tasted good and cheap stuff didn’t.
“Annie, are you trying to get me stiff on purpose?” Dad asked.
“I need to know if you think I’m sexy Daddy. I’ve wanted you to do me for years. Do you want me?” I asked.
“My god yes, baby girl. If I’d known that, I would have taken care of you myself, and you wouldn’t have needed to fool around with all those boys,” Dad said.
“Wouldn’t Mom have objected?” I asked.
“Obviously she was getting her jollies someplace else, and she didn’t take care of my needs for as long as I can remember, so I doubt if she would have cared.
“Regardless, we need to make up for lost time, little girl,” Daddy said.
I didn’t waste any time. I opened up his pants and took out my dad’s erect penis. Since he told me Mom hadn’t taken care of him for a while, I sucked Dad off. I took his cum in my mouth and swallowed every drop. One advantage to being sexually active, besides not being shy or afraid, was that I knew I could make things better for myself, no matter how good a guy is, with a little management. I suppose it seems a little cynical to think I needed to make my dad pop in my mouth before we fucked the first time, but it really wasn’t me trying to manipulate my dad, more a case of trying to help him be his best. I figured if I eliminated the possibility of overexcitement and quick climax, it would make both of us happier with the results of our first time together.
Dad got between my thighs and ate my pussy until I was a squirming, screaming mess. Then, with the best foreplay I’d ever had making me hot, wet, and oh so eager, Daddy filled my little teenage pussy with his grownup dick. He fucked me hard, and I came better than ever before. He lasted a long time, and I was a very happy, very well fucked girl when I realized a guy was making my pussy sore for the first time. I started talking dirty, whispering things I thought would get to Daddy, in his ear as he rode me. I talked about how good he fucked me and how much I loved having my own daddy dick me until I was his cock crazy slut. Daddy blasted off inside me for the first time, and I knew we were going to have a very long-lasting love affair, complete with lots and lots of great sex every day, because our love making satisfied both of us in a way neither of us had experienced before.
Daddy and I wore each other out, and we clung to each other as we came down from our orgasmic highs.
“Dad, I don’t know how my genes made me so plain, when Mom was trophy worthy in every way. Is lots of hot sex going to be enough for you? Is your mousy daughter going to satisfy you? I mean Mom had perfect C Cup tits, and I’m just an A Cup. Mom had a porno worthy ass, and I’m kind of a stick figure. I worry a lot that I’m not enough for my handsome daddy,” I confessed.
“Annie, I like everything about you. I have had nasty fantasies about you seducing me or me seducing you since you first sprouted boobs. I love the way your tits just fill my hands. I love knowing you’ll never get saggy; that your tits will always be firm cones, never empty bags, sagging to your knees.
“Another good thing about a slim figure is that you can always find sexy lingerie that fits. Even Victoria’s Secret doesn’t make some of their hottest things for a woman with a C Cup bust, or your mom’s porn worthy butt.
“I hope it doesn’t seem creepy that your father wants to have sex with his pubescent daughter, every day, for the rest of our lives,” Daddy said.
“Actually, I like the idea of having my hunky daddy seduce me every day for the rest of our lives. As long as you fuck me more than once a day, I’ll be a very happy girl,” I admitted.
“Do you think you’ll get bored with schoolgirl uniforms?” Dad asked.
“I’m sure if you let me do some seducing teacher role plays and let me buy pretty lingerie to tempt you, we can always find interesting games to play,” I said.
“Do you feel satisfied, Annie? I know you were worried that you are a nymphomaniac,” Dad asked.
“I’m more comfortable about that now. I wondered if my not feeling totally satisfied was because the sex was mechanical and there wasn’t an emotional component to the relationship. Now that I finally got the man I love to fuck me, the results are a lot more satisfying. That seems to rule out nymphomania, since we just proved that I CAN be satisfied by a man,” I said.
“So, your old dad is able to take care of you more satisfactorily than your parade of young, studly boyfriends?” Dad asked.
“Gosh Dad, I never expected you to have insecurities. Please take my word for it that I’m more satisfied than I’ve ever been. If I had been brave enough to go after you first, there would have never been a parade, let alone my ever taking another man to bed. If we are going to have a life-long love affair, you have to believe me about this, and don’t worry even a little bit about it. If you let your insecurity get out of control, it will wreck everything for us. I swear Daddy, I will never need another man, and I won’t cheat on you, like Mom did.
“Mom saw herself, with good reason, as a great beauty. I know I’m just a mousy, skinny little teenager. You are the man I’ve always wanted, and now that I know I can have you, I am only going to be seeing how often and how well I can fuck you. I may not be beautiful, but I’m a great fuck, so I’m going to lead from my strength, and give you the very best sex you ever had, and make sure you are getting all you can handle. I’ve shown you the deep dark thoughts in my insecure soul, do you think you can live with my needing you to screw me four or five times every single day? I have to be sure you never have a second when you feel deprived or ignored, and fucking you until there’s nothing but dust in your balls is the only way I know to be positive you are always getting enough.” I said.
“I should have known you were a better person than your mom, Annie. I’m sorry. I’ll keep my older man, with a young lover, insecurities under control, and make sure you know for a fact that your dad wants you every second of every day,” Dad said.
I jumped on Daddy and sucked him hard, then pushed him onto his back, climbed on top of him, and rode him to even better orgasms than he’d given me the first time.
“Is this going to be our life from now on, fucking every time you can get me hard? I’m not complaining, by the way, I’d just like to know what you plan for our future,” Dad asked.
“I think it will take a little time for us to settle down and find out what normal is for us. Both of us have been deprived for a long time, and we need to adjust to having all the sex we want, available anytime we want it. Knowing you want me all the time will reassure me. I promise I’ll do it any time, and any way you want, so you never feel deprived again. I’m pretty sure I’ll never get bored with even plain vanilla sex, and I hope you will always be as enthusiastic as you were the first time about having your daughter hot for you. If it turns out you need something extra to make you sure, every part of my body is available, any way you need to use me, daddy,” I said.
I ground my clit against Daddy’s hard body and exploded into my best orgasm yet. My tight little pussy started sucking on Dad’s cock and milking the cream out of his balls. He shot off inside me with a force I’d never felt before.
“I love you Daddy!” I moaned.
“You fuck me so good! You make me feel the way I’ve always dreamed making love would make me feel,” I whimpered.
“My god, Annie!” Daddy groaned. “I’ve never come that hard before in my whole life. We will have the best life together baby girl,” Daddy said, as he tried to catch his breath.
After a week, Dad needed to get back to his practice, and school was about out of patience with me being absent. I wished we could keep on just staying home and fucking six or eight times a day, but I didn’t want daddy to start feeling like doing me was work or an obligation, so I didn’t complain about going back to “real life.”
The police got done with our house. Dad hired a contractor to gut the master bedroom and remodel it. All the furniture was hauled away. We fucked and slept in the guest bedroom while the construction went on. Dad had the bathroom enlarged. He had the shower redone so we could shower together, and even fuck in the shower if we felt like it. He put in a Jacuzzi tub big enough for both of us. He let me do the decorating, and I opted for a country casual style. When everything was ready, Dad let me pick out the curtains, furniture, bed, mattress, and linens.
In a lot of ways, it was like we were newlyweds, and most of Mom’s memory was already erased. We were pretty happy. We were definitely in love, and we had lots and lots of great sex. There just seemed to be something missing for both of us, and we both realized we weren’t as happy as we should be.
I tried reinventing myself as the brainy schoolgirl so I could role play Hermione Granger kinds of girls, but after a few weeks, it was obvious that just wasn’t me.
I could tell Daddy was reading me all wrong and imagining he was too old to satisfy my near nymphomaniacal need for sex.
Before things got out of control, I sat him down after dinner and then sat on his lap.
“Daddy, darling, I am physically more satisfied than I’ve ever been. You know I’m a high school freshman, and trying to invent myself. I don’t know who I am yet. I was trying out the brainy schoolgirl role, but it just isn’t working for me.
“How would you feel about a wife who liked being barefoot and pregnant?” I asked.
“I have to admit I have fantasies about knocking you up and even more about you being very sexually demanding while you are pregnant.
“What are you thinking you want to try?” Daddy asked.
“I think I need to be like a Pioneer Woman. I think you should move your practice to a little town in Wyoming or Idaho and I’d keep the home fires burning while you saw patients. No one would know from looking at me that I’m your daughter, because there is no family resemblance. We would just tell people I’m your wife. I can say I have Social Anxiety Disorder, so people leave us alone.
“We can get a place out, away from town, and you keep me barefoot and pregnant; not to mention so well fucked I always walk bowlegged. I would do the gardening, canning, cutting firewood and all the other pioneer living things, as well as raising lots of pretty babies with you,” I said.
“What about me being a man who wanted to molest my daughter, but she seduced me first? I’m probably not trustworthy around our daughters when they start to develop a figure,” Dad admitted.
“You never molested me, Dad. I trust you to respect our girls and leave them alone unless they tell you they want your attention. You know I have serious needs, but if they didn’t want me to share too much, I suppose it would be OK,” I said.
“I don’t know Annie. I think it would be best for me to limit my sex partners to just you. I’m afraid if I start messing with our daughters, you might not get enough one day and think you needed to do something about it other than fuck me,” Dad said.
“Maybe it would be best to deal with that issue when we come to it. I think you should wait until our daughters are fourteen, at least, even if they beg you to make love to them,” I said.
Dad got me new ID, and Anne James disappeared.
Anna Cory James, who is supposedly barely twenty-one, was introduced as Dr. James’ wife in the tiny town in Idaho where Dad opened his family medicine practice. There were some FLDS neighbors, so we didn’t expect anyone to turn in the doctor for having a young wife. I kept a very low profile, so no one ever had a reason to think about me.
We owned eighty acres bordering a National Forest. I turned into a regular hard body with all the gardening and chores required to raise most of our own food and live off the grid as much as possible. I started wearing a bikini or sometimes just sexy panties, to get Daddy stirred up when he got home. I learned all the tricks about banking the fire in the cook stove and putting the mostly cooked food in the warming oven. I’d get Daddy to fuck my brains out, then we’d cuddle, clean up, and have dinner.
After dinner, we’d read, sitting close together on the couch, but out hands were almost always busy, keeping each other stirred up. Around eight, we’d fuck each other silly on the couch, then I’d get the wood stove ready for the night, we’d go shower together, and sometimes fuck each other in the shower, or climb into bed and screw each other senseless. Daddy would wake me up in the middle of the night almost every night and fuck me until my body felt like Jell-O. We’d cuddle up and sleep until the alarm went off in the morning. Dad would fuck me really good before we got up. That was how we made sure we were both getting our minimum daily requirement of hot sex.
After Daddy got me feeling all satisfied, peaceful, and ready for the day, I got up, woke up the fire in the stoves, and got breakfast ready. I had started using hand ground coffee because a hand grinder doesn’t scorch the beans from heat generated by friction. The spring water we use for our drinking water makes about the best coffee either of us have ever tasted.
For our first anniversary present, Dad bought me a small batch roasting machine. I ordered green Kona coffee beans online, and the UPS driver dropped off a fresh pound every Wednesday.
Today I made a skillet with bacon, shredded potatoes, grilled onions, scrambled eggs, and cheddar cheese. While learning on a wood cook stove is tricky, I’m getting to be pretty good at it.
Sometimes we can’t keep our hands off each other, and we fuck again before Daddy goes to work, but most days, I just fill a thermos with coffee, give him a kiss full of promises, and send my husband out the door.
For my sixteenth birthday present, Daddy took me to Portland, Oregon for a full gynecological exam. The doctor said my apparent physical age was twenty-two, based on how sexually active my body showed I have been. She cleared me to get pregnant, and removed the IUD.
We stayed overnight at a lodge on the Oregon coast. We had a make-believe honeymoon, and fucked each other all night long. Daddy extended our reservation so we could sleep late. We had a nice brunch and headed home in the early afternoon. We both wanted to make love again before we left, but we needed to get home before it was too late. Wood stoves take a lot of work to get going, when you’ve been away for a while. If we got home too much after sunset, it might be an uncomfortable night before the bed of coals is deep enough to provide even heating.
I jumped on Daddy when the alarm went off, just like always, but today I shared a secret with him.
“I’m ovulating this morning, and it hurts like hell Doctor Daddy,” I told him.
Daddy got pretty excited and today was one of those days when I got my normal morning fuck and a quickie just before Dad left for the clinic. I was a slacker and spent some time in bed with my legs up, to keep as much sperm inside me as possible.
Somehow, I felt different about sex with Daddy too. While it still looked like hot, wild fucking, it felt much more like making love than ever before, and touched my heart more deeply than ever.
I made snack style foods, edible with fingers, for dinner. Daddy and I fucked as much as humanly possible, and nibbled on the snacks in between our mating.
Just like at the lodge, we fucked all night. We did use Daddy’s refractory periods to nap, but as soon as he could get hard again, his cock was right back where it belongs. I told Daddy I had decided that deep in my cunt was where his cock belonged, and we needed to make sure to put it there as often as possible. We both laughed, because it was nearly impossible to have my dad’s prick in my pussy any more often.
I caught right away, and I had a smooth pregnancy. I laughed and told Daddy it was confirmation I was meant to bear children.
My breasts got bigger, but not grossly. At the end of my pregnancy I filled up a B Cup bra nicely. I hoped the lactation fairies were kind to me and that my tits didn’t turn into floppy, empty bags when I was through nursing.
Daddy got his wish, and I was hell on wheels to get fucked every waking second, the entire time I was pregnant.
We had a midwife come in for a home birth, and she was happy I thought getting fucked as hard and often as my husband was able, was an excellent way to keep my labor pains manageable.
Our first daughter, Cynthia, was born very early in the morning. The midwife told me she had her daddy’s cum smeared all over her face when her little head popped out of the birth canal, and that her little pink tongue was lapping at the thick cream around her tiny mouth. The midwife told me Cynthia was going to be hungry for her daddy’s cum, and to expect her to crave sex at a young age in order to get her mouth filled with her daddy’s hot cream. It was all I could do not to giggle and say, “Tell me something I don’t know.”
During my pregnancy, I didn’t gain much weight, and after the delivery, I just looked a little flabby, but by no means fat. I began doing my chores again, and I firmed right up to my pre-pregnancy figure.
My tits grew to B Cup size, and I was very happy with the size increase. Daddy was too. He has always given my breasts all the attention a girl could want, but it felt like he was even more passionate when he was loving on my boobs now that they were a bigger hand-full. We were both thrilled that my tits kept their perfect cone shape, and my nipples kept their “poke your eye out” points.
Cynthia was healthy and didn’t have digestive upsets. She nursed like she was the happy baby in a La Leche League breastfeeding manual. After she drank up all the colostrum, and my regular milk came in, Daddy was my greedy little baby too, and nursed happily from my breasts. I loved the way it made me feel to give my father everything he ever desired. I knew no other woman could ever please him or keep him happy the way I do.
Nursing Daddy led us to discover that he could make me orgasm, just by licking and sucking my nipples. That was a big help for me when the doctor prohibited us from fucking for six weeks after the delivery. By week four, we decided everything was pretty well healed up inside, and orgasms wouldn’t strain or stretch ligaments and muscles in my belly. Daddy started going down on me several times a day to give me more intense orgasms, so I wouldn’t suffer as much.
Both of us wanted to do a Snoopy happy dance when I went for my six-week checkup and the OBGYN cleared me to resume intercourse. Daddy and I had agreed that my body should have at least two years rest before I got pregnant again, so I had the doctor insert a new IUD.
I realized I was going to need to do a better job scheduling and coordinating than most new mothers so both Daddy and I got our minimum daily requirement of fucking. I needed to keep the house clean, grow and preserve our food, and make sure Cynthia was properly cared for. During my pregnancy, I read a lot of time management books, and it all seemed to come down to multi-tasking. For example, I learned to hoe rows of corn and nurse Cynthia at the same time.
Daddy recognized the effort I was putting in to make sure he never felt deprived, or that baby was more important to me than he is. I did more cock sucking than before, and more talking about how his thick dick was his magic wand that kept his daughter both addicted and satisfied at the same time. Daddy and I both thought of blow jobs as foreplay, but it gave me a chance to manage Daddy’s fears. I offered him my ass to fuck, so he would know in his guts, that I would do anything to please him. I made sure to fuck him even more often than before I got pregnant, so he knew he was always going to get as much sex as he could possibly handle.
My dad was so cool about helping with the house and the baby, I always felt happy to give Daddy a three AM (or any other time) fuck, after Cynthia finished nursing, and went back to sleep. After all, I was getting five or ten orgasms toward my MDR. It really seemed to help keep me in a good mood when I made sure both Daddy and I were cumming as often as we were used to.
I had my dad take me to Marion County in Oregon, and I spent several days at a blackberry farm, learning all about how to grow the big, dark purple berries. We bought cuttings and planted them in ground I had prepared to meet their needs. It took several years, but eventually we had almost a commercial blackberry harvest. I learned to can them with minimum sugar, and during the long, snowy winters, we always found blackberry jam or pie to be a bright spot in the cold, grey days.
Before I knew it, Cynthia was two, and I got a full checkup from the OBGYN. I was healthy, and the doctor took out the IUD. Getting me pregnant turns both my dad and me on, about as much as it’s possible to get a near nymphomaniac and a male sex addict excited, so we nearly gave each other bruises, we fucked so hard until I was knocked up again.
That was my circle of life. Daddy and I felt happy and fulfilled. Our lives might not be important to whether or not the earth turned, but healthy, happy kids were well fed and could play in the dirt or fish in our trout stream, or ride horses, or milk cows, or learn to grow food.
Dad and I decided that we couldn’t hide the way we needed to make love to each other all the time. We gave our kids an age appropriate sex education class so they would know Mommy was making happy noises, not getting beaten up, and Daddy was doing it because Mommy wanted him to, never forcing her.
When we had five kids running around, we decided to have the IUD put in more or less permanently. Like most good doctors, my dad talked to our kids calmly about sex and gave them accurate information. All of them were efficient masturbators, and none of them seemed to have unhealthy sexual preoccupations. I tried to make sure there was always something to do, so they didn’t get in the habit of jacking or jilling off just because they were bored.
When fourteen-year-old Cynthia sat on her dad’s lap the night after her birthday, I was just glad she had been able to wait this long.
“Mom, I’m feeling a lot stronger sexual desire than I have before. Can you and Dad help me figure out what to do so I don’t go crazy?” Cynthia asked.
“You know just getting off isn’t the only thing involved, Cindy,” her dad said.