Hi. My name’s Bill Matherson. I’m going to tell you how I came to fuck my daughter Fiona. Neither of us intended for it to happen. I think, in the end, that it was just fate.

After my bitch of a wife, Stella ran off with a fucker from her work, it was just me, my daughter Fiona and our mongrel dog Bozo. Stella’s new bloke hated kids so she told me I could look after Fiona, saying it was about time I helped to bring her up anyway. That was eight months ago now, and we still haven’t even gotten around to starting divorce proceedings.

Fiona was 17 at the time. She’s a lovely girl, sweet, funny, intelligent. Possibly a bit too much of a tease, but then show me a girl her age, with a body like hers, that isn’t. She used to wear some pretty revealing clothes, nothing slutty, but showing a lot of leg and cleavage.

I tried very hard to ignore all that, but when she was around me she could get a little careless and flash a bit more of her tits or panties than I was comfortable with. When that happened I just had to run away to another room, trying to ignore the feelings in my pants.

We just seemed destined to keep getting into situations that got out of hand.

One morning I was downstairs in the kitchen, eating some cereal, when I thought I heard something upstairs; it sounded like someone shouting. I went to the bottom of the stairs and, sure enough, it was Fiona, screaming blue murder from upstairs somewhere.

I went up to see what the problem was and found her in the bathroom doorway. She had a tiny towel wrapped around her and was clutching it closed with her hands. Her head and legs were covered in suds.

“Bloody shower just turned itself off,” she complained, “while I was halfway through.”

I stepped into the shower and saw that it had an error light showing. I pushed the On/Off button and all the lights went out, then I pushed it again and, suddenly, the shower was spraying all over me. I jumped back to avoid getting soaked and bumped into Fiona, who must have come up behind me. I knocked her backward and heard her squeal. When I turned around she was flailing her arms and the towel had dropped to the floor.

I swear I only looked for a second or two before I covered my eyes, but it was as if the image of her had become burned into my retinas. Her breasts were that perfect ‘ski slope’ shape and I guessed were about a C cup. And she had tiny little rock-hard nipples in two small, pale triangles of untanned skin. Her pussy, again a stark white triangle against the rest of her tan, was beautiful: hairless and plump, with a tiny cute bump at the top.

She must have caught her balance because the next thing I felt was her barging past me, spinning me around. I looked to see what was happening and saw her little brown, downy ass cheeks, again with a tiny white triangle at the top, disappearing into the shower She was so close I could see the individual blonde hairs on her buttocks as they bounced away from me.

My erection was like a rock. I couldn’t help it. In my mind, she was my little girl but the reaction of my body was pure animal. I rushed out of the bathroom and tried, desperately hard, not to think about her body.

That damned shower never missed a beat again.

Another time, late in the evening, she called me into her room. She was wearing her skin-tight jeans and was lying on the bed with her legs apart. Her hands were between her legs, scrabbling at her crotch.

“Daddy help, the fucking zip’s stuck. Can you get it for me?”

“Mind your language,” I told her. “And yes, OK.”

I looked at it and could see that the zipper had gone over the material about halfway up. I grabbed the tag and tried to pull it down but it wasn’t budging. I was horribly aware that where I was holding the tag was almost exactly where her clit must be.

“I don’t think this is going to work, honey,” I told her.

“Make it work. These are almost new and they cost me a fortune.”

I took hold of it again and yanked it up and down, but it seemed to be well and truly stuck. Fiona had gone quite quiet at this point and seemed to be breathing heavily. By that stage, I was very hard, as you can imagine. I needed time to cool off.

“I’ll fetch a pair of pliers, hang on a minute.”

I took my time getting them, and when I came back, my hard-on had mostly gone down. I gripped the tag with my pliers, gave it a good jerk, and the bloody thing snapped right off.

“Oh shit!” I said. “Sorry, sorry. The tag’s come off. I think I’m going to have to cut these jeans off you.”

“Oh come on Daddy, you’re better than that. You must be able to do something.”

“OK. I’ll give it one more try.” I tried to get hold of what was left of the tag with the pliers but there wasn’t enough left to get hold of.

The only way I could see to go from there was to pull it up, which can sometimes free up a jammed zipper. I grabbed it with my fingers on the outside and my thumb inside. I could feel the heat of her pussy on my thumb and, oh my God, she was wet! I went to pull my hand away but she put hers over it.

“I think you’ve nearly got it, Daddy! A few good pulls and it might move.” I did as she asked, but when I felt her raise her hips a little, and start to push herself against my hand, I had to call a stop.

“I’m going to get some scissors, that’s the only way they’re coming off. Don’t worry I’ll buy you a new pair.”

“Ooohh Daddy. I’m sure it was nearly there...” She sounded a bit like she was going to cry.

On my way to the kitchen, I could feel my dick leaking into my underwear. I didn’t want a wet patch to show through my khaki shorts so I got it out, squeezed out the pre-cum and wiped it off with a tissue, then tucked it back away.

When I went into Fiona’s room she still seemed to be fighting with the zipper; that’s almost certainly what she was doing.

It wasn’t easy cutting the jeans off her, it didn’t help that she wouldn’t stop wriggling. I managed to cut both sides down to below her hips and peeled the front of the jeans down. Oh God, I tried to gulp, but my throat had gone completely dry.

She was wearing a pair of pale blue panties but the front was dark blue and was clearly soaking wet. The aroma that wafted into my nostrils was beyond belief. Much as I now hated my ex, I had to admit she had the most wonderful pussy juice I’d ever tasted; it smelt as if Fiona had inherited that from her mom.

As I stood up I could feel the wetness of my pre-cum all over the inside of my underwear. I looked down and there was an obvious wet patch on my shorts too.

“Oh God, Daddy!” she squeaked and covered herself with her hands.

“You’d better handle it from here sweetie,” I said shakily and left her to it.

As I walked away I remembered the wetness that I had felt on my thumb. Without even thinking about it, my thumb was in my mouth. It tasted even better than it had smelt. I’d eaten truffles once and there was more than a hint of that musky, earthy, intoxicating flavor to the taste of her. I felt incredibly guilty but I didn’t take my thumb out for quite a while.

Another occasion started when I was at work giving a presentation to some prospective clients. It was a very big deal and I was wearing my best Dunhill suit. It was going quite well when I got a call on my cell. I glanced at the screen and saw that it was from Fiona; she never called me at work so I figured it must be important. I apologized to everyone and took the call in the corner of the conference room.

“Hey baby, what is it? I’m kind of busy here,” I whispered.

“Dad you’ve got to help me, Bozo’s trying to fuck me!”

“What?! What? What are you talking about?”

“I’m stuck in the dog flap. I couldn’t find my keys. I was out with Carol last night. Bozo keeps sniffing at my ass. Help me. Please, Daddy. Get off me you bastard! Oh God!, I think that’s his dick!”

“OK, don’t panic. Keep kicking him away, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

I told them all that I really had to go, a family emergency, and drove home as fast as I thought I could get away with.

When I got there Fiona was halfway through the dog flap and Bozo was trying to hump her leg. He did indeed have a raging hard-on. I picked him up around the stomach and took him into the house, shutting him in the lounge.

When I got back out Fiona was crying. I could see stains on her jeans where Bozo had leaked on her.

“Please get me out, Daddy! I’ve been stuck in here for ages!”

“OK. It’s going to be fine, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”

I grabbed her hips and tried to pull her back out of the flap, but it wasn’t even close. She was stuck tight.

“I think maybe you’ve made yourself sore and swollen up a bit,” I said. “Let’s take some of these clothes off and see if that helps.”

I unlocked the door and squeezed through. She was wearing a jacket over a T-shirt. I took the jacket off her and then the shirt, leaving her dressed just in her bra above the waist. I could see that she was red and puffy where she’d been trying to get herself out. I went back outside and tried again to pull her out again.

“Ow! Daddy that really hurts. You’re ripping my tits off!”

I thought about it again. “Hang on, baby, I’m going to try pushing you through.”

I put my hands on her ass and pushed, but could immediately see that the waistband on her jeans was catching on the edge of the flap. “I might have to take your jeans off as well. Is that OK?” I asked her.

“Yes, yes, it’s fine. Just get me out.”

I undid the button and pulled the zipper down. Then I had a moment of panic. “You have got panties on under these, haven’t you?”

“Of course I have. What kind of a slut do you think I am?”

“Sorry, baby. Just checking.”

I pulled at the jeans until I got them off over her hips, and stared. She was only barely wearing panties: just a tiny pink thong! I carried on pulling at her jeans until they came all the way off.

I sat there, flapping my hands around trying to find something that wasn’t my daughter’s, basically naked, ass to push against, but there was nothing.