Chapter 2

It was many hours later when I regained consciousness.

I stirred, and at first didn’t even remember the events of the previous night. It took a few moments before the dull pain settled in. There was a persistent ache, somewhere deep inside my crotch. The memories of what happened came flashing back, and I frantically turned around only to find myself all alone in the sleeping bag. The tent was empty. My father was nowhere to be seen.

It was a relief. I wasn’t ready to face him. Hell, I had yet to really comprehend what even happened. With a steadily quickening heartbeat, I reached down to unfold the sleeping bag. Maybe it had been a dream, maybe nothing really happened.

My fingers grasped the smooth fabric of the bag tightly, and then pushed it apart to get a better look at myself. Despite my underwear, there was an immediate scent I didn’t recognize – pungent and potent. I also noticed right away that my bra was still out of place. Right there across the surface of my pale breasts, I could see the red imprints of large masculine hands. I could remember the way he manhandled the delicate flesh while he fucked me. My heart sank a little at the prospect that perhaps it hadn’t been a dream.

But there was still one more thing I needed to inspect.

My eyes darted back down the front of my body, past my breasts, and I peered at my underwear. A snugly fitting, purple pair of lace boyshorts. Except, I could right away see a dark, wet spot right in the crotch of my panties. Dread began to fill me at the prospect of what I may discover.

I lowered my hand down, and pulled the crotch of my underwear aside. I instantly could see multiple strings of a thick beige fluid connecting the fabric to my vagina. The smell grew worse, too. It was the smell of unprotected intercourse.

With nothing left to imprison it any longer, a faint trickle of more semen began to ooze out from within me. I watched it in disbelief and shock. This was real. I was no longer a virgin and I had fucked my own father. More than that, my labia was still gaping lightly, and was swollen to twice its usual size. They no longer looked like the genitals belonging to a virgin, no, it was clear this was the pussy of a girl who had gotten fucked.

His sperm gradually escaped me, and uselessly dribbled down to my buttocks. I felt emptyheaded, and simply closed my legs to spare myself the sight.

Just in time, the one responsible for my situation appeared before me. My father brushed the flap of the tent aside and stepped in, after which he turned to look at me. Then, his gaze lowered to my crotch. Even with closed legs, parts of my battered vulva were still visible. It was an incredibly awkward situation, neither of us had said a word yet. I could only assume he was about to apologize, frantically, for what he had done. He must have spent his entire morning attempting to think of an excuse for his actions.

“Good morning,” he chirped happily.

His eyes moved back up to meet mine, and he seemed to show no concern, or guilt. “I hope it was as good for you as it was for me,” he went on to explain. “If I had known you were into that, too, I wouldn’t have waited this long. Feels like we have a lot to catch up on,” he said, after which he sat down on his side of the tent just a few feet away.

I was completely confused and caught offguard by his brash approach. “You had sex with me,” I pointed out.

“Yes, we had sex. I didn’t hear you complaining when we did it.” As he said that, my mouth opened to retort but no words came out. “It’s all right to have some regrets, that’s normal. I’m not sure how it began, but it was more fun than I had in years.”

Upon hearing those words, a blush crept across my cheeks. “More fun than he had in years,” was how he described taking my virginity and cumming inside of me.

Still, it was weirdly flattering. I felt desired, even if the affection came from the absolutely last person I wished to gain it from. I had never been the type to masturbate a lot either, so the thought that my genitals were actually good for something, was also mildly comforting. In a very weird way.

This whole situation was a lot to take in – this was the complete opposite of the desperate apology I had anticipated. He seemed to be under the impression that it had been something mutually beneficial. He didn’t seem to be aware that it began with his sleepwalking. It occurred to me that I could simply correct him – but that could make him feel guiltier than I wanted to. The damage was already done, after all. Making him feel bad would not restore my virginity.

“I don’t have regrets,” I replied nervously. Dumb things happen all the time, I figured. Regardless of what happened, I didn’t want to damage the relationship with my dad. “People have sex all the time, right? It’s normal, I guess.” I did not mention that it certainly was not normal for father and daughter to fuck each other.

“Thanks, I’m glad you see it that way! Now then, breakfast should be ready soon. How about you clean up, and then join me outside?” He gave me another cursory glance, and left the tent.

I was dumbfounded for a long moment. That was it, that was all he had to say?

“Ow,” I cried out bitterly as the ache in my nethers draw my attention once more. The intense scent of sex overshadowed even the damp scent of the forest. I didn’t know what else to do, so while more droplets of cum still oozed out of my tenderized slit, I hooked a finger into the crotch of my undies and pulled them back in place. It was an eerie thought to trap his remaining sperm inside my vagina, but what else could I do? There was no sink, or bathroom to clean up.

As soon as the fabric snapped back in place however, I could feel a warm shiver running down my spine. It was like a shock of arousal. It was dazzling at first, but as my thoughts raced to make sense of the situation, one possibility crossed my mind. What if that unexpected encounter last night ... somehow got the wires in my brain crossed? Maybe I was now associating the risk of getting knocked up directly with a thrill of pleasure?

“Chloe,” I whispered to myself. “Don’t be ridiculous.” This had been simply a mistake, an accident. As soon as I got back home, I’d simply take a morning after pill and be done with it.

After making sure that my bra and panties were properly adjusted, I also grabbed a fresh shirt before leaving the tent. He had already seen it all, but I didn’t intend for him to see it ever again. A shirt made me feel slightly more modest than flashing my breasts again.

The campfire was alive and well once again, and my father had set up a little contraption that allowed him to place a frying pan above the open flame. Within that pan, I could see slices of bacon and some eggs already sizzling away. There was a pleasant aroma of breakfast, but I couldn’t ignore the more prevalent issue on my mind.

“Dad, actually ... give me a second,” I said.

“All right, just don’t take too long. I don’t want to burn the food on our first day out here,” he replied. If I didn’t know any better, I would dare saying that nothing special had happened.

But as I returned to the creek I found a day ago, I very well knew that wasn’t the case. The clear water flowing through the creek was pleasantly shallow at multiple points, so I could freely step on a couple well-placed rocks. I didn’t even get my feet wet in the process. Then, I awkwardly crouched down and slid my panties down to my knees.

It took a few seconds like that, with me crouched down and the water still running freely below me, before I could feel something. It began somewhere in my stomach, just under my bellybutton. It was an unfamiliar sensation, slippery and wet as gravity coaxed it downwards. I glanced down to the lips of my vagina, and spotted the first drop of my father’s cum emerging from between my aching folds. It uselessly dribbled out of me, and splashed into the water below.

A thicker tendril followed, beige in color. “Oh, God,” I muttered to myself. “That ... had been inside of me, all night?” The whole concept of cum was still so alien to me – the idea that when a guy ejaculated, his dick would squirt semen everywhere. But, the proof was undeniable in front of my eyes. The sticky tendril of goo eventually severed and also dripped into the water, to be washed away. It felt good to get rid of it, albeit in such an embarrassing fashion. The more I sobered up to reality, the less did I wish to accept even a small chance of getting pregnant.

The process continued for a few minutes. Until I was certain that every last drop of cum was gone – or at least as much as I could rid myself of. Afterwards, I made sure to use plenty of water to thoroughly rinse and clean my vulva from every last trace of what happened.

For the first time since I woke up, I felt somewhat at ease again.

Without further delay, I returned to the campsite and shared a meal with my father. Neither of us made an effort to continue talking about the sex we had. When we were done eating, after we still barely exchanged any more words, he went to rummage through some of the things which had remained in the van.

“What are you doing?” I inquired, and approached him from the side. When I peered into the back of the van, I noticed that he was filling a backpack with supplies. There were also two fishing poles, which he proceeded to pick up and push into my arms. “Huh?”

“We’re going fishing, it’s part of the experience,” he replied.

“What experience?”

“The tradition, of course. Just because your mother didn’t give birth to a son, it doesn’t mean that we will skip the fishing part of the trip. I planned to give you the full experience, so that’s what we will do,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Alright, cool. So how do I carry these?” My eyes wandered up and down the fishing poles. They looked incredibly fragile, and swayed with every motion. It took my father another moment, but then he reached for something in the back of the car, and shortly after, handed me a couple Velcro straps. “What should I...” it took a moment, but then I realized his intention. “ah.” I applied the straps to the bottom and top of the fishing poles, which held them together tightly. They no longer felt as fragile as before, it felt more like it was a single sturdy stick I was holding.

“Look at you,” he remarked. “My little princess figured it out on her own!”

“Dad!” I grumpily pouted back at him, yet he relished my annoyance. Someday I’d hopefully get used to it, but that day was not today.

Regardless, both of us put on some proper clothes, and then we departed. I expected it to be a short trip to some nearby lake, but my father surprised me by guiding me through a dense forest vegetation for much longer than I thought. Eventually, the scenery opened up into a lush patch near the mountainside. A wide river ran down the side of the mountain, and passed us nearby, which seemed to make for a decent fishing spot.

We settled down there, just a few feet away from the crashing waters. A blanket made the gravel easier to sit on while we unpacked. Even before we cast a line, I already spotted some fish rapidly swimming down the flow. It would make for another fascinating memory. The only fish I’d seen before, were those in the supermarket, deep frozen and ready to go.

“So, what now?” I interrupted my father, who was readying the fishing poles. “Do we just sit here and hope that we catch something?”

“No, that’s not the point of fishing. Really, it’s more about just learning to relax. It teaches you to be patient and to just accept things as they happen. Sometimes you get lucky, sometimes you don’t.” He finished preparing one of the poles, and reached for the next.

“That’s surprisingly profound, coming from you,” I teased. Alas, he didn’t seem to react to it. Apparently he wasn’t nearly as easily teased as I was. “So what are those fish doing there anyway? Seems like a bad idea to be such an easy target.”

“They’re spawning,” he replied.

“What, like in a video game?” I watched him cast a line into the waters before he continued his explanation.

“No, not like in a video game. Spawning is like, well. Fish usually don’t fall in love, hump each other and accidentally make some babies in the process. It’s more straightforward. The female usually just squirts out her eggs into the water, then the male squirts his sperm onto the eggs, and that’s it. It’s not magical. It’s very instinctive for them,” he explained.

“It’s not about making each other feel good, it’s purely about reproduction,” he continued. “The females reach a certain age, then specific hormones get released, and then all they can think about is making babies. The sooner, the better.”

“Gross!” I interrupt. “That can’t be right. Why would anyone do that?”

“It’s natural,” he replied. Before he could say anything else, a fish took the bait. It was a brief but energetic struggle. Ultimately though, the fishing line broke and the brave fish survived to live another day. However, it was impressive to watch the way my father fought to try and catch it. It was a side of him that I hadn’t seen before, full of drive and ambition.

We remained there by the river for a few more hours, with varying success. The little bucket we brought with us eventually contained just enough fish to serve as hearty dinner, at which point we returned to the campsite. By the time we actually arrived, the sun was already beginning to set again.