Loving Daughter
Copyright© 2026 by Ares Eros
Chapter 1
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 1 - A story about love and lust between a daughter and father. Mother also joins in later chapters.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Incest Mother Father Daughter Anal Sex Cream Pie Exhibitionism Fisting Tit-Fucking Big Breasts AI Generated
“Dad, you’re driving too slow.” Emily stretched her legs out in the passenger seat, deliberately letting her skirt ride up her thighs. The late afternoon sun filtered through the windshield, casting warm light across her smooth skin. She smirked as she caught him glancing—just for a second—before his grip tightened on the steering wheel.
“I’m going the speed limit,” Mark muttered, adjusting the air conditioning like it might cool more than just the car. His daughter had been like this since he picked her up from campus—restless, playful, teasing. At eighteen, she knew exactly what she was doing, and worse, she knew he knew too.
Emily traced idle circles on her bare knee before letting her hand drift higher. “Mom’s still at her book club, right?” The question was innocent, but the way her fingers crept toward the hem of her skirt was anything but. Mark exhaled sharply, eyes flicking between the road and the dangerous territory of her thighs.
“Yeah,” he said, voice rough. “But we’re not—”
“Not what?” Emily cut in, her tone sweet as she slid her hand fully under her skirt, fabric rustling softly. She watched his jaw clench, the way his knuckles went white on the wheel. “I didn’t say anything.”
Mark cursed under his breath and suddenly jerked the wheel, turning down a narrow dirt road flanked by overgrown fields. The car bounced over potholes, gravel crunching beneath the tires. Emily laughed, delighted, as he pulled up beside an old, sagging barn, its paint peeled and weathered. The engine idled for a moment before he killed it, the silence thick between them.
“Really?” Emily teased, biting her lip as she took in their surroundings. The farm was long abandoned, forgotten by the sprawl of the suburbs just a few miles back. “You’re predictable, Dad.”
Mark didn’t answer. Instead, he unbuckled his seatbelt and reached for her, one hand tangling in her hair while the other gripped her hip, pulling her halfway across the console. Emily gasped, then melted into him, her mouth hot against his. The kiss was hungry, impatient—nothing like the careful boundaries they’d danced around for months.
Her hands fumbled with his belt, nails scraping against denim, and Mark groaned into her mouth. “Fuck, Em—”
“Shut up,” she breathed, tugging his zipper down. “We don’t have long.”
The barn door creaked in the wind as they stumbled toward it, barely making it inside before clothes started hitting the dusty floor.
The barn’s interior smelled of dry hay and old wood, sunlight slicing through gaps in the walls in jagged golden lines. Dust motes swirled in the air as Emily pushed Mark back against a rough-hewn support beam, her fingers working frantically at the button of his jeans. His hands weren’t idle either—one cupped the back of her thigh, hiking her skirt up higher, while the other slid beneath her blouse to palm the soft weight of her breast. She arched into his touch with a whimper, her nipple stiffening against his calloused fingers.
Mark’s breath hitched as Emily leaned back just enough to shrug out of her blouse, letting it pool on the hay-strewn floor. The late afternoon light caught every curve of her—the full, heavy swell of her breasts, their pale skin flushed pink at the peaks where his mouth had been just moments before. They jiggled slightly as she moved, the weight of them undeniable, the nipples already tight and begging for attention. His fingers itched to squeeze them again, to feel how they spilled over his grip.
Her stomach was soft but taut, a gentle dip between her hips that led his gaze lower, to where her skirt had ridden up completely, revealing the lace edge of her panties. The fabric was damp already, clinging to her, and Mark groaned at the sight. Her thighs were thick and smooth, the kind that begged to be spread wide, to be bitten and marked. He could see the faint tremor in them as she stepped closer, her body practically vibrating with need.
Emily grinned, swaying her hips as she reached behind her back to unclasp her bra. It fell away, and her breasts bounced free, the nipples dark and pebbled. “Like what you see, Dad?” she purred, dragging his hand to her stomach, then lower, until his fingers brushed the soaked lace between her legs.
Mark growled, grabbing her waist and spinning her around to press her against the beam. The wood was rough against her bare skin, but she didn’t seem to care, arching her back to press her ass against his hardening cock. His hands roamed her body greedily—over the swell of her hips, the dip of her waist, then back up to knead her breasts. She moaned when he pinched her nipples, rolling them between his fingers until she was panting.