I was about five when I first began to notice the noises from the next room. The squeaking of the bed, my mother yelling something, my father grunting, then silence. It happened almost every night. It took about a year for me to recognize the pattern: a few weeks of that, then four or five days of grunting, a little squeaking but no yelling from my mother, then the yelling began again. I knew it wasn't fighting, because sometimes after the grunting ended, they would be in the kitchen having coffee and laughing. I asked them once and they told me not to worry about it.
My father ran a very successful taxi company, and on Take your Daughter to Work Day, he would take me in to the garage and I would meet all the drivers, really nice guys. My mother was a secretary in a law office, and in alternate years, she would take me in and I would meet all the lawyers.
Years after I noticed the pattern of noises, as the time for my period approached, my mother gave me a talk about it and about how babies were made. She didn't go into a lot of detail, but my face must have turned crimson as I realized what those sounds were.
Around the same time, I learned, by accident, as all kids do, that if I rubbed the lips of my pussy, and my clit, it felt great, like I was about to pee, but the first time I kept going until I really did pee, I didn't pee at all, just a little wetness, but a lot of throbbing, and it felt even better. I soon progressed to putting my fingers into my pussy and pretending that one of the boys from school was fucking me. One night, I pretended that it was my handsome father, and I got so excited that I even broke my cherry. After that, he was the only one I pretended about.
My mother died when I was fifteen, in a car accident. That left my father and me. We were both so miserable and lonely, but life had to go on. One night, as I lay in bed trying to get myself off, I heard the old familiar squeaking from the next bedroom. By then, I knew that it meant he was jerking himself off, and the sound excited me. I decided to do what I had only been fantasizing about. Only a nightgown covered my pussy and my healthy fifteen year old tits. I walked into his bedroom without knocking; he was lying on his bed, totally naked, one hand around his cock racing up and down its length like a cylinder in one of his taxis, the other holding his balls.
"Let me do that for you, Daddy."
The look he gave me made me think he was going to have a heart attack. He dropped his cock, which instantly shriveled up, grabbed a sheet to cover himself, and yelled "Get out."
"I'm not going anyplace, Daddy. Mommy is gone, we two are all we have around here. You're not making any effort to meet anyone; I have to take care of your needs."
"Honey, please put some clothes on and meet me in the kitchen."
I had no real choice then except to do as he had asked. We were soon facing each other over coffee.
"Honey, you're a beautiful young woman, sexy as hell. All the boys must be falling over themselves to be with you, to take you out and neck with you and even to go to bed with you. I know your mother taught you about the birds and the bees, but she didn't really talk to you about sex. I mean fucking; you know that word, don't you? Right now, my penis, my cock, would love to fuck you. I haven't been near another woman since your mother died. There's an old expression, "an erect penis has no conscience." The boys you meet get erect and don't care what they say to you or do with you as long as it results in an orgasm. The only problem with me is that I'm your father and I would rather have someone cut off my penis than let it come near you; that's just the way it is, the way it should be, the way it must be.
"You don't think I hear you when you masturbate? You're the one I think about when I do it. My testicles are loaded with sperm hoping to get out through my penis, but you are not going to help. Not, not, not.
"As for you, I'm sure that soon some young man will talk you into bed. I can never prevent that, for it's the way of the world. Just make sure its not tonight, because tomorrow I'm going to buy you a package of condoms to carry around at all times, and to use without fail. If there's no one at school that interests you, come around to the garage; you may meet some nice single fellows there. Don't think I'm crazy; if its going to happen let it happen with someone nice. Now get back to your room and finish your masturbating and I'll go take care of myself. Good night again."
I sat speechless as he went back to his bedroom; I followed to mine. As I lay there listening, I heard nothing and did nothing. Finally, after a half hour, I heard light squeaking from his room and started on myself. I pushed two fingers into my cunt, moving them in and out as fast as I could, with my thumb tweaking my clit. My other hand massaged my tits, twisting the nipples. My cum was accompanied by a musical yell, a bit like my mother. In the other room, I heard my father grunt, and pictured his cum shooting out into a handkerchief or whatever.
The next morning not a word was said about our confrontation or discussion. However, I couldn't get them out of my mind, and I'm sure my father likewise. He kissed me on the forehead and left for work, me to school. I thought of him all day; I had to take care of him somehow.
After dinner, we watched some TV, I did my homework, then off to bed. I lay there listening; not a sound. An hour later, I was sure he was asleep. I tiptoed down the hall, inched his bedroom door open, and looked in. He was sound asleep, covers and sheet kicked off to the side, breathing regularly. His shrunken cock lay sideways across one thigh. I crept in quietly, knelt alongside the bed and moved my mouth over his cock. As I touched it to lift it to my lips, his eyes opened and he reached for me, putting his hands under my armpits and lifting me off the floor.
"Thank you, honey, but I just can't, it's not right. Are you telling me to go get a prostitute so that you'll feel free to leave my cock alone?"
"Please, Daddy, you're so important to me."
"I love you, honey, but no."
I went back to bed, feeling like a fucking idiot, and rubbed myself to sleep.
"Daddy, I'm sorry about last night. I promise not to do it again; I'll just have to let you handle things for yourself the way you want to. But let's talk about me for a minute. I'm a normal woman, but still a virgin and I don't want to be. All the boys in school are yucky. You said something the other night about meeting some of the guys who work for you. I don't want you to feel like a matchmaker or a pimp, but my body needs more than just my hand. Let me come in when I have spare time and work in the office."
He blushed and laughed and cried and hugged me.
"I'm glad you'll let me handle things my own way, but..."
"I'll be glad to help if you change your mind."
"Cut it out, silly girl. What I wanted to say is that when you come in to the office, let whatever happens happen. Don't go after someone aggressively just because you're ready for a new experience. It takes time, let it be natural. And by the way, here are the condoms I forgot to give you yesterday. Remember what I said about using them."
So there I was, a just turned sixteen year old chick, pretty good looking and well built, if I must say so myself, assisting the bookkeeper, keeping my eyes open but acting demurely, not hitting on any of the drivers or mechanics. They all said hello, some of them checking me out, but nothing else happened for a while. Meanwhile, each night meant treating myself to a round of fingers in the cunt, on the clit, around the nipples, as I made myself "cum" to sleep, all the while pretending it was Daddy's cock inside me.
I did have my eye on a driver named Tim, about 19, college student, good looking. I saw him looking me over, but saying nothing. When I knew he would likely be in the garage when I was there, my clothing choices became a little more mature; not sexier, just more grown up. I undressed him in my mind, liked what I saw, but never let him take over my imagination; it was still Daddy who helped me cum. Finally, he asked me to join him for a cup of coffee across the street.
Just coffee, and my pussy was drooling. He held my arm like a gentleman as we walked, held the door for me, and all that stuff.
"What are you studying, Tim?"
"Well, I haven't picked my major yet, but probably engineering."
"Electrical. What grade are you in?"
"Eleventh grade; I'm a junior." I could see his mind trying to figure out my age.
"I'm sorry about your mother. How's your father handling it?"
"Pretty lousy. I can't get him to go out with any women. He just misses her so much."
"I can imagine. What about you, do you have any boyfriends?"
"Are you volunteering?" I wonder if I sounded too forward.
"How about a movie Friday night?"
When I told my father, he just smiled and said, "Not on the first date, honey, but be prepared just in case." I couldn't get him to let me help his sexual needs, but he was preparing me for the loss of my cherry. I didn't want to tell him that I had already taken it myself.
.... There is more of this story ...