Dad Helps Her Build Her Wardrobe
by MicaMeesha
Copyright© 2026 by MicaMeesha
Incest Sex Story: The wardrobe kit from Ikea is a mystery to Mica; her dad comes across and helps, and things get hot.
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction Incest Father Daughter .
My daughter Mica had phoned yesterday; could I go round and help her build a wardrobe she had got from IKEA? Of course I could. When I woke up today, I asked Mary, my wife, if she wanted to come with. She said no, she would only be in the way; she hated building things, to give our daughter her love, and that she would potter in the garden.
It was going to be hot today, hotter than yesterday, the weathermen had said, so I put a lightweight T-shirt on and a pair of shorts, grabbed my keys, and headed over. I pulled on to the drive next to Mica’s Vespa, tapped on her front door and walked in.
“Morning, love, only me,” I called as I shut the front door behind me.
“In the kitchen, Dad,” she replied.
She embraced me as I walked in, “Morning, Dad,” she said, squeezing her whole body against me. “Coffee?”
Mica was wearing a pale blue bikini top and a denim skirt; she too had dressed for a hot day.
“Yes, please, love.”
I sat at the table and watched as she pottered around making the coffee and emptying her dishwasher. Oh my. When she bent forward to take stuff off the bottom shelf, her skirt rode up, revealing her white thong. Actually it revealed more of her bottom than anything. Oh goodness, when she leant right forward, I could see right under, between her legs. Oh my, no dad should ever see that. And no dad should ever have the reaction I was having.
My God, my daughter was giving me an erection; that was just so wrong. What was worse is I could not stop looking. Her knickers barely covered her; the string went down her backside and then under where her fanny was peeping out either side. Jesus, what was wrong with me? She stood up straight and walked across to the tall cupboard to get some mugs, and as she walked, her breasts jiggled. My God, this is so wrong; my dick was straining at my shorts, my brain was doing summersaults, and my daughter wandered around unaware. Thank goodness.
I managed to tear my eyes away and looked out at her garden. It seemed a safer view than my twenty-year-old daughter’s lithe body.
“Here you are, Dad,” Mica said, passing me a coffee. I was sure I caught her looking at my bulging shorts. I hoped not; her dad with a stiff one was not something she should see, ever.
Mica sat on the other kitchen chair and sipped her coffee.
“I’ve opened the boxes, Dad, and laid all the pieces out and checked all the screws and fixings. Everything is there; the instructions are gobbledygook, well, to me. To you they are probably the finest English.”
“Well, we will have a look in a minute, baby. They are usually straightforward, but it is always easier with two to put these things together. Nice coffee, thank you, baby.”
“You’re welcome, Dad.”
Somehow, I managed to get through my coffee without thinking of the image of my daughter’s fanny peeping out from her knickers. My erection subsided somewhat, and it got the point where I would actually be able to get up and move without my dick bulging. Under the kitchen table, I managed to slide my hand inside my shorts and straighten my dick; it would now bulge upwards, not forwards, should the same thing occur again.
I followed Mica upstairs; oh my, I should have been closer. I was a few too many steps behind, and all I could see was her fanny massaging the thong string as she walked upstairs. It was as if it was kissing the string. Jesus, what was the matter with me? It was only nine in the morning, and I felt as hot as if it were midday.
“Right then, Dad,” she said, “here it all is. I want it to go against the wall next to the window. It will cover that socket, and that is a nuisance, but, well, it is what it is.” I looked, and yes, there was a double-switched power socket that would be behind the wardrobe.
“That’s no issue. Measure the socket, how far from the wall, and how far up from the floor, and I will pop back tomorrow with my multitool, and I can cut the back of the wardrobe so that you can get to the socket if you need it.”
“Oh, Daddy, thank you,” and that earned me another big hug, breasts pushed against chest. Oh, this wasn’t helping.
I looked at the instructions; it seemed straightforward, and we made a start, Mica holding a side as I fixed the top and the bottom, Mica squatting down and only revealing her more covered front than her barely covered back. But her front still bulged and filled her knickers, the crease clearly visible. Jesus, my own bulge must have been quite obvious. I tried very hard not to stand side-on to her.
We made sure the carcase was square with a tape measure and then nailed on the back. Doors were next; they were tricky, as they were quite heavy, and Mica held them at the bottom as I fixed the hinge at the top. Her breasts seemed to look up at me, round, welcoming, with nipples prominent. Oh God, my erection was inches from her face.
Eventually we managed to get the wardrobe finished; luckily I think I managed to get away with my embarrassment. We stood back and looked at our work. It looked good; it was square, and the doors opened and shut as they should. Yes, excellent. Hopefully I could now escape before things became just too awkward. No, it seemed not.
Mica turned and embraced me hard, squeezing me, her nipples against my chest, her groin pushing hard at my erection.
“I know Dad,” she whispered in my ear.
I gulped. “Know what, baby?”
“I can feel it Dad. I could see it, Dad.”
“I am sorry, baby; I couldn’t help it.”
“I am flattered, Daddy.”
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