Warning : All my stories are pure FANTASY. None of them are real, nor do I wish them to be - the purpose of a fantasy is to be what the reality isn't, what the reality shouldn't be. Any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely incidental, and in most cases is the result of an overactive imagination. I don't know, nor do I think I wish to know, anybody engaging in incest.
"Mom! Dad!" I squealed as my parents entered my examining room. I was both delighted and shocked to see them. Delighted because I loved them terribly and hadn't seen them for two weeks. Shocked because they had never come to my hospital before - and had never needed to. I was a specialist in gynaecology, and so far, all my patients had been females. My parents smiled at me, and the three of us hugged lovingly. The distance of three hundred miles between our residences only increased the familial bond that we had.
I was surprised, however, when Dad sat in the patient's chair - I had guessed that Mom had some problem that required my professional assistance. Mom took the seat across from mine, and in reply to my puzzled expression, offered an explanation. "I need you to examine your father's genitals."
"Don't be shocked, darling," Daddy interposed hastily. "It's just that the problem is so embarassing that I couldn't bear to consult any doctor. God knows how your mother managed to convince me to come here... I tried to tell her that you were a female doctor, that you saw only female patients."
"Oh, bosh, Arth. Who cares about the gender of the doctor anymore? It's the professionalism that counts. Besides, you know you need help, experienced hands to get you out of the 'situation' you are in."
"Time out," I said, holding up my arms in the form of a T. "Will either one of you please tell me what the problem is? You can take as much time as you like, since you are my last patients for the day, but if you want my services, you have to tell me what the problem is." I tried to make myself sound as stern and firm as possible. The outburst, if it can be called that, served its purpose; the atmosphere lightened.
I took the moment of pleasantry to check out my Dad - as I had been doing for the last two years, since I started to practise at the age of twenty-one. I noticed with relief that he had hardly changed. His Scottish features were still as sharp and handsome as ever, and he had kept his body in good shape. He had retired early and was now living off a considerable investment he had made a few years ago. Unconsciously, I sighed as I remembered that I could have had it all - his love, the pure love that a man feels for a woman. The pure love whose extension lies in the pleasures of the bed. I remembered the opportunity I had let go, the opportunity to be his lover.
It was Mom who had come forward with the proposition. I had just turned eighteen, and with Dad's birthday just around the corner, my mother and I were having a tough time deciding what to give as a present. Mom looked at me strangely, as if evaluating me, and then asked me bluntly if I would sleep with Dad.
At that immature age, I said no. The thought had repelled me then, or so I told myself. Mom never raised the subject again, and I guess she half-expected me to backtrack on my decision. I focused on my medical course and drove all thoughts of carnal pleasures from my mind. For the next three years, I always thought of Mom's suggestion as a poor joke. I saw no reason for bringing it up with Daddy.
Then, around the time I got my license to practise medicine, I chanced to arrive at the house unannounced. It was then that I saw Daddy naked for the first time, and although it was only a window provided by Fate for a couple of seconds, I took in the sight of his cock. Somehow, at that instant, Daddy was no longer just my father - I realized that he was also a man, a very handsome and virile man who could still drive my teenaged friends crazy. From then on, I noticed that he was a very charming man, very educated, compassionate and astute. These are things a child often fails to notice in his or her parents, and yet, when he/she grows up, this is exactly what grabs his/her attention in a prospective partner. Daddy became the epitome of everything that I wanted in a man - in my man, to be precise.
But it never occurred to me to approach him...
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Mom had not missed my appraisal of Dad. Without losing my composure, however, I picked up my horn-rimmed glasses and made a production of studying Daddy's body. I drew in his square shoulders, his dark hair interspersed with gray, his impeccably trimmed moustache and his smooth and set jaws. Dad, I could see, was getting just a little bit uneasy under my 'studious' gaze, so before I did anything stupid and scare him away, I stopped the examination.
"Hmm," I said to Mom, "The specimen looks okay." Mom laughed as Dad, with mock-indignation, threw a punch at the air in front of my face. "What did you say the problem was?"
"I thought you were a better doctor than that," my mother said in between laughs. "You hardly even examined your area of specialisation." I froze. She didn't mean - oh no, she did mean it! She wanted me to examine my father's genitals - the whole package in his crotch, that included the luscious cock, the vibrant balls and the electric hair. Dad was silent, looking at everything else except my eyes. I couldn't find any words to form an apt repartee, one of the very few times in my life when I was verbally helpless. Then again, you don't come across a mother asking her daughter to go over her father's manhood everyday.
My silence conveyed the wrong impression to Daddy, and he tried to laugh off what he perceived was my reluctance. "See," he said in a triumphant voice, "I told you our little angel treats only females. Let's go home - I will see if I can get the damn thing out any other way." He started to get up when Mom pulled him back into his seat. "Stay," she ordered, gesturing to me to say something to keep him from bolting again. I have no idea where my comment came from, but it was out of my mouth before I had a chance to refine it any further.
"Something's stuck in your crotch? I could have understood if you were a woman, but in a man - let me see what you are talking about. Drop your pants, Dad!"
Mom grinned from ear to ear as Dad turned around to stare at me. My cheeks were starting to burn slowly and I swear I was getting goosebumps. "Are you crazy?" said the man who had contributed a half of his genes to me. Noticing my set expression, he immediately reworded his query. "Are you goddamn - sorry - serious?"
I nodded. "Take off those chinos, Dad, and let me take a look at what it is that ails you."
Before Dad could say anything further, Mom stood up. "I don't think it is proper ethics to have anybody else with you when you are examining someone, so I'll excuse myself. No buts - I'll be waiting outside." Even before she had finished, she had walked out of the room, closing the door confidently behind her. For what must have been fifteen seconds, Dad and I stared at each other, each unwilling to back out. I tried to convince myself that my stubbornness was due to the belief that I could - would - act as a professional, but the deeper recesses of my mind had already formed its conclusion - I would do it because it was SO erotic!
Finally, Daddy gave up. With a sigh, he stood up and locked the door of the examination room. "Wouldn't want anyone to barge in on us."
Even after the door was closed, Dad was hesitant. He was still unsure whether getting naked in front of his daughter would be proper. At that moment, it dawned on me that Dad must be having troubling thoughts - incestuous - about me; that would certainly account for his reluctance. But if that was the case, I wasn't sure that we should go on. Having fantasies was one thing, but revealing them to each other was another matter - with luck, it would probably lead to the fruition of these fantasies.
"What IS your problem, my dear father?"
Dad threw up his arms in resignation. "Oh, what the heck! I might as well tell you." Taking a deep breath, he continued. "There is this mobile sperm bank that goes through our town once a month. Last month, they were asking for volunteers, you know, people with plenty of sperm and nowhere to use it. After a lengthy discussion, your mother and I felt that there was nothing wrong with me enrolling into the volunteer base. Since sperm is good only if it is fresh, I waited until yesterday, when they were supposed to come, to wank myself into a bottle. I suppose it was pretty stupid the way I went about the whole business, but I've been idle for so long I just wanted to do something.
"I decided to donate my testicular secretions, Doctor.
"I thought I might fill a bottle with my stuff - I didn't know that you were supposed to go to the mobile clinic and have them take it out. Unfortunately, somehow or the other, my... penis got stuck inside the bottle, and now I can't take it out. There you have it, my dear doctor daughter, that's what has been troubling me."
Dad sat down, an inscrutable expression that I guessed was embarassment showing on his face. "Let me take a look at it," I offered.
Dad shook his head. "No offense, hon," he said gently, as if afraid he would insult me, "But you are a female. Just recommend me to a male doctor, and I will put the matter into his hands."
"I know a couple of people who might do it, but they are not exactly what you call discrete - by tomorrow, half the hospital is gonna know you, my father, had this kind of a problem. Relax, Dad. I am sure I am more than competent enough to handle it."
"I know you are, but... for a year, after your mother's accident (that left them unable to have sex anymore), my hand's been the only visitor to my penis. I don't think I am upto a female touching my cock, even if that luscious female happens to be my daughter."
With this admission returned some of our unease, but now I was more than determined to see if we could pull it off. I walked to Dad and gave him a hug from behind. "I love you," I purred in his ear. "And you are going to do as I say!"
I caught the collar of his shirt and nudged him towards the bed on which I normally laid out my patients for examination. Dad tried to protest, but sensing failure, he moved as I indicated. As soon as he was near the cot, I reached from behind him and with a boldness I never knew I had, undid his belt and pants before he could say no. Even as he tried to turn around to stop me, I pushed the material to his knees.
By this time, Dad lost all hope of a compromise.
He stood, a picture of helplessness, as I shoved his underwear down into the pool of his pants. He must've realized that turning around would be suicidal - his cock, with that little bottle over its head, would have slapped me across my face - I was that close to his half-naked body. Wordlessly, he got on the bed and laid flat out, his docile cock hanging limply in front of him. Even in that unaroused state, his cock was large enough to keep the bottle on. It was a small thing, really, and that explained how Dad could have managed to get it stuck on his organ. The feeling of sympathy was immediately replaced by a humorous thought of how he must've felt when he realized that he was stuck, which was then replaced by a sensation that I recognized as arousal - and I started to get wet between my legs.
Making sure that the door was locked, I took off my coat. My hands seemed to have a volition of their own as they undid the buttons of my silk blouse. As I removed the last button, Dad grabbed my arm. "What are you doing?"
"Putting you at ease," I told him, surprising even myself with the answer. Up until a few seconds ago, I hadn't even thought of removing my coat. Now, right before my father's eyes, I was going to take off my shirt, and undoubtedly, the bra would go too. I knew I should stop before I went over the limit, but when the smooth silk slid off my shoulders, a shudder went across my body as I realized that only my lingerie stood between my father's gaze and my breasts. Thank God, I thought, I wasn't going to take off my skirt. My panties would be so soaking wet you could fill a bucket by wringing it dry.
"Would you help me with the clasp please, Daddy?" I was aware that my voice was turning husky, but hey, I am after all a flesh-and-blood woman. And I was about to reveal half of myself to my father, my flesh-and-blood relative. I turned around, half-expecting him to kick me in the butt that would knock some sense back into me. Instead, I felt his hands in the small of my back; the touch knocked the wind out of me.
Slowly, cautiously, Dad made his way to the strap of the bra. I know a lot of men have trouble with it, but Dad had the clamp off in a couple of seconds' time. I stood still, wanting him to take the next step - of removing my bra. Dad's hands still lingered on my back, running circles around the place where my clasp had been. As my indifference drew on, Dad moved his hand slowly upwards, until it was resting on the left shoulder-strap of the bra. It remained there for what seemed like an eternity.
Instinctively, I knew it was now upto me to continue the slow - was it a seduction? I raised my right palm and placed it over his hand, and gently, almost imperceptibly, pulled it to the left. My hand rested on his for some more time, and then, with the pace of a snail, he started to pull the straps off. I replaced my hand at my sides as Dad carried on with the same momentum. When the strap was halfway down my arm, I let out a small moan - in its deliberate motion, Dad's hand had brushed against the bare side of my breast. Dad paused, as if unsure whether to proceed or not, but when he received no more of an objection from me, he continued as he had before.
After a tantalising period, my left breast was finally free of its confines. I looked down, confident that my father wouldn't see me examining my own reaction since my back was turned towards him. My pink areolas had flushed to the point where they almost appeared red, and by the way my heartbeats throbbed my cup, it was obvious that the nipples were as hard as they could ever be. Even though I had been an introvert in medical college, I had enough knowledge to know that these were signs of heightened sexuality. To be blunt with myself, my Daddy, the man who gave me my life, had made me as hot as I had ever become.
And judging by the way his hand was moving over my body, I would be staying that way long after that touch had faded...
If the first part of removing my bra had been tantalising, the second half was sheer torment. Dad moved his hands even slower than before, and the air was so still that I felt his breath on my warm skin. The feeling gave me bumps, and I hoped futilely that my skin wouldn't betray my excitement. Unfortunately, a rosy hue was starting to cover my body.
This time, Dad did not merely brush against my tit - he peeled the cloth off in a very calm manner, as if we had all the time in the world. To be honest, by then, I had quite forgotten that Mom was outside, waiting for us to finish - if my body was any indication, it would take a long time to do that! His hands reached my areola in a pretense of removing my underwear, and even though the cup of the bra was already detached from my skin, he traced a semicircular rim of the precursor of my nipples. This time, I genuinely felt my knees go weak.
I held out my hands in front of me, and the material fell to the floor with an audible swish. Dad placed a hand on my shoulder, but he made no move to turn me around - that initiative had to be mine, and I understood the words that were being spoken in silence. Once again, that little nut of a conscience broke into my thoughts, warning me to cover myself before I turned around - I could very well imagine the consequences if I did face Dad like this...
... And by God, I wanted to!
As my profile came into view, I heard Dad take in his breath sharply. I have always been slightly critical of my breasts and their voluptuousness, but when I saw my father's eyes, I felt proud of them. They were riveted on the mounds, focusing on the twin cherries on top. I thought he would - in fact, I wanted him to - reach for them, feel them, massage them. Instead, he just gazed longingly and lovingly at my breasts, with only his eyes moving. He took in my deep cleavage. I inched closer to him, wanting to feel his loving hands on my body, wanting to have his kisses. Wanting to be what I turned down five years ago.
"These things do not deserve a bra," he said, finally raising a hand. "They are too firm. And beautiful. Just like the rest of you. Pam, you look gorgeous!"
Doubts must have still lingered, for he paused within a hair's breadth of touching me. "Can I?" he asked meekly. In response, I clutched his hand and placed it on my breast. Both of us momentarily closed our eyes - his hands felt even better than what I had imagined or fantasised. Dad enveloped my hard bud with his palm and rubbed back and forth, the action shooting rocks inside my body. I melted into his hand as he placed all his attention and devotion to that particular fruit of mine.