Who's Your Daddy?
(A Daughter's Special Love)
Angela stood at the head of the casket holding on tightly to her dad's trembling hand. She was so proud of her father's indomitable courage. The long line of well-wishers saw only the pretense facade of determined acceptance enlightening the man's face.
This daughter of a tender, sensitive, and passionate man knew her father was holding on to his nerves by only the thinnest of threads. Angela knew how precariously close her dad was to breaking down in tears again.
Seeing tears welling in her father's bloodshot eyes she squeezed his hand tighter. "Dad," she whispered in his ear. "You know Mom would want you to be strong. Hang on a little longer and this wake will be over."
Angela saw her father nod his head and dig into his reservoir of courage to find the strength to persevere a little while longer. She saw his eyes glance again at the shell of a body that once held the soul of his beloved wife of thirty years.
The inhumane, insidious ravages of breast cancer had destroyed Angela's mother's body. Like a carnivorous beast, the cancer had savagely eating away her flesh and had left only the skin and bone skeleton of a once vibrant and vigorous woman.
At long last the time came for family and friends to go home for the night. The funeral was set for two o'clock the next day. Angela and her husband linked their arms around her dad and helped him to their car.
Her father threw a glance back at the funeral home. "Oh Angela," he wailed. "How can I leave her in that cold, dark place? Damnit, she should be alive and well and sleeping in my bed with me!"
With gentle persuasion, Angela managed to get her father into the car. The man spoke not a word all the way to his house. Tears dripped from his eyes as he stumbled up the steps to the cold, lifeless home that had once know love and joy.
As Angela took her father's keys to open the door, she looked towards her husband. "Bob, I can't leave Dad alone tonight," she said. "Just go on home and you can come get me after breakfast tomorrow."
"Angel, don't you fret so much," her father insisted. "I'll be fine and if I'm not I'll just give up and fix it so I can go on up to heaven to be with Beth."
Angela's husband took over. "Jonas, now don't you say such foolish things," he said. "Tomorrow will be a whole new day when things will get better. For tonight, you just let your daughter be a comfort to you."
Turning away, Bob closed the door, and left the house. Jonas refused the food his daughter offered to fix. He headed for his bedroom and prepared for bed. This lonely, despondent man tossed and turned with restless bereavement. Sleep refused to offer its blessed oblivion of peace.
Angela, hoping her father would sleep, decided to take a quick bath so she wouldn't have to in the morning. As she stepped from the tub and dried off, she realized she didn't have any of her nightclothes here. Stepping into the darkened laundry room, she picked up the first garment she came to and slipped her arms into the sleeves.
Somehow the smell and feel of this article of clothing heightened and aroused her senses. Fumbling for a light switch, she flipped it on. Why, no wonder she felt comfortable it was one of her dad's white cotton work shirts! Although it was a few sizes too big, Angela decided to keep it on for a nightshirt. Loving the sensual feel of the fabric against her nude skin, she left her bra and panties off.
After getting only one button fastened over her nicely-proportioned, 28 year old body, a startled cry from across the hallway drew Angela's attention. Ignoring the remainder of the unsecured buttons, she raced to her father's room, flipped on the light switch, and worriedly beseeched, "Dad, please don't cry!"
Sitting on the edge of his bed wearing only his pajama bottoms, Jonas opened his tearstained eyes and saw his daughter standing in the glaring glow of the bedroom lights. Despite his grief, and daughter or not, the young woman's seductive allure took his mind away into a flight of the imagination. With her dark hair, man's shirt, and slim legs, she reminded him of the sexy lady in his favorite country music video.
In the video, "Who's Your Daddy", Toby Keith sings the title song while a woman strips off her clothes, takes a bubble bath, and then dances around in an elegant mansion clad in only a man's shirt. While his wife had been sick, Jonas had often jacked-off his cunt-hungry cock with the dancing woman's sexy striptease playing in his head.
Stepping closer, Angela had taken her father's weary head and was cradling it against her busty bosom. "Please Dad," she whispered consolingly. "You know Mom wouldn't want you to hurt like this."
Halfway believing himself to be a character in an imaginary video, Jonas' arms involuntarily hugged the woman standing before him. Instinctively, his hands slipped under the tail of her nightshirt and settled on the firm, round cheeks of her ass. His massaging fingertips telegraphed a message to his head which said, "God, she doesn't have any panties on!"
Unconsciously, the fingers of one of Jonas' hands parted this woman's ass cheeks and began fingering her asshole while the fingers of the other hand found a backdoor entrance to her drippy wet cunt. "Oh Beth!" he wailed. "I've missed you so damn much! Honey, I haven't had a piece of pussy in so, so long it hurts!"
Startled by her father's abrupt actions and words, Angela was, at first, speechless. When a finger inserted itself into her asshole and another probed inside her pussy, she cried, "Dad, I'm not Beth, I'm not Mom!"
The probing fingers did not stop digging. Despite her shocking dismay, Angela reluctantly admitted to herself that her dad's hands felt good as they massaged her ass skin. She had never had a finger inside her asshole before. This was a hypnotically new and pleasant sensation.
Another finger entered her pussy and then another and another. Dripping moisture flowed freely and coated the fingering intruders. Angela's breath caught in her throat. "Oh that feels nice!" she moaned. "But Dad, I said I'm not Mom! Stop playing with my ass and pussy. I'm your daughter, I'm Angie!"
Ignoring protesting words, Jonas listened only to the melodious video music playing inside his mind. Moving his head slightly, he discovered that the woman's nightshirt was nearly completely unbuttoned. Rooting around, his rutting head parted the garment and explored around inside where he found a pair of bosomy busts. Seemingly unaware of what he was doing, the man started kissing the braless breasts.
Switching his hands around, a couple of Jonas' pussy-wet fingers entered the woman's asshole while the fingers of the other hand found a home inside her moisturized cunt.
Angela felt at least two slippery fingers slip inside her asshole. Her own cunt-juice had lubricated the masculine digits which were digging into her as deep as they could. The fingers playing inside her pussy felt good, but the fingering intruders inside her ass were creating sensations she never knew existed.
Jonas' mouth kissed both breasts with a comforting contentment. "Honey?" he asked with concern in his voice. "Have you done a self examination of your boobs today? A woman can never be too careful! If only I'd found those mammary lumps before they had gone too far, if only the disease had not been so aggressive, if only... !"
"Don't worry, Baby," he quickly added. "I will examine your breasts for you! And, since I don't want to take any chances, I'll give them a thorough oral investigation."
Angela felt her father's lips kissing every inch of her breasts. His flicking, licking tongue inflamed her tender flesh. The man's tit-hungry mouth methodically explored her mountainous hills and the cleavage valley between them.
Knowing this was morally wrong Angela steeled her nerves and prepared to insist that her dad stop touching her so intimately. This thing happening now was not her father's fault! Surely he didn't know what he was doing. Her mom had been sick and unable to give sexual solace to her man for a long, long time. Yes, he was grieving, but he was also starving for sexual attention.
Angela knew plenty of ladies who would be especially willing and eager to give her father all the sexual attention he needed. He was a warm, loving, kind-hearted gentleman who would be able to get all the pussy he needed from women when the time was right.
This daughter of a sex-starved man knew in her heart that this was not the time and she was not the woman to respond to his carnal needs. She would tell him so, and she would tell him right now.
Just as Angela opened her mouth to speak her father's lips closed over one of her swelling nipples. His vacuuming mouth sucked greedily and his teeth nipped at the nubby protrusion. Although this man was sucking and chewing a little too roughly, this woman realized she didn't mind it at all. In fact, it felt very good indeed!
To add to her own sexual confusion, her father's flittering fingers were aggressively playing inside her pussy and ass. Although he had big hands, Angela had never thought about the fact that her dad's fingers were so unbelievably long. She could hardly believe just how far up her asshole and up into her cunt canal his dexterous digits were digging.
Jonas played in a loving, lust-filled daze. Without removing his fingers from their playtime holes, he used his head and teeth to maneuver the woman's nightshirt over her shoulders. The flimsy garment slipped to the edge and then fell off her body. One button kept it from falling all the way to the floor.
.... There is more of this story ...