I'm Tina and I'm a major Daddy's girl. I'm 20 years old. My dad and I are very close, like best friends. And he doesn't know it (I don't think), but I've been in love him since I was around 15, maybe younger. He's a super upstanding guy and I'm pretty convinced that he would never do anything with his daughter. I've teased and flirted in every way I know how. But I don't think he has ever taken me seriously.
I've gotten into going in chat rooms, searching on "Daddy", then having sex chat with the best daddy type I can find. And truth be told, I've also hooked up with 3 different men who were about my dad's age (43). Those were the best sexual experiences I've ever had and they allowed me to totally get lost in the fantasy. I'm sad to think that those times may be the closest I ever get to having my dad inside me for real.
By the way, I love my mom too. I'm not nearly as close to her as I am with my dad, but I think she's a great person and a great mom. I always assumed that she and my dad must have a great sex life. I mean, what woman in her right mind wouldn't want to get fucked by my dad every night and every day? I can't imagine.
But, after overhearing a conversation a few days ago, I have a pretty good idea that their sex life isn't all that great. They thought I was up in my room asleep, but I wasn't. I was right in the next room. Here's what I heard. By the way, my dad's name is Bill and my mom's name is Allison.
"I can't have this conversation with you again, Allison," my dad said.
"I still don't know what the problem is," she replied.
"The problem is that I'm dying. I love you. I desire you so badly."
"So? I love you too, Bill."
"But Allison ... Shit. Here I go again, trying to get you to understand how frustrated I am! I'm only in my early 40s. I'm not dead yet."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means that I'm not an old man. I still have real sexual desire and I want to express it with my wife. And my wife has no interest in engaging with me in that way."
"That's just not true. Honey, didn't we do it just a few days ago?"
"No! Allison ... a few days ago? It was 2 weeks ago! And it felt like you weren't even there!"
"Of course, you know exactly when it was. I'm sure you know what time it was too and how long it took."
"I know about what time it was, sure. And I pretty much know how long it took. Because you want our lovemaking to take as little time as possible. That's not normal, Al. Most women want their men to take LONGER. I would make love to you all night if you showed the least bit of interest."
My mom didn't say anything.
"Let me tell you something, Allison. Do you have any idea what I do every morning?"
"No, Bill. What do you do?"
"I lay in bed next to you, and I listen to you snore. And I wish with every fiber of my being that at least once in a while you would wake up when I do and want to have sex. And, I wake up every morning with a hard-on. Sometimes I roll over and touch you, caress you, and rub it against your butt, wishing and wishing you would wake up, but you never do!"
She still said nothing. But by this point, I wanted to scream! I had no idea my dad was going through anything like that. And all I could think of was how much I wished I could be there to climb on top of his hard-on! What he said after that really got me going.
"And you know what I do after that, Allison? I play with myself. After I've laid there long enough and taken as much frustration as I can handle, take my dick out of my pajamas, I fantasize and I play with myself. I masturbate. I don't want to do that. I want to be playful and intimate with my wife! But no, I have to jerk off every morning thinking of..."
"Yes? What exactly do you fantasize about when you're doing this?"
"Who gives a shit? But I'll tell you this, Allison. For years I fantasized about you. I thought about how beautiful you are, and how desirable, and what a great body you have. And I still feel that way about you. But now it just makes it worse to think about you sexually. So I use my imagination in a big way. It's the only satisfaction I can get."
After that, my dad left the room. A minute later my mom did too. I'm not sure where she went in the house, but I'm sure she wasn't following him to talk more. It seemed like she couldn't wait for the conversation to be over with.
.... There is more of this story ...