Incest/TabooVictoria Takes on Her Father Ch. 03
Thank you to everyone for following our story to this point. I have really enjoyed the process of reliving the feelings I had throughout these experiences while going through the writing process. I was able to convince Victoria to give us the story from her point of view, however she does not like to write. She agreed to narrate her thoughts on an audio recorder and have me edit her story. I will do my best to portray her feelings as expressed in the narration, and ultimately, she will have the final blessing of the chapter. I hope you enjoy chapter 3 of Victoria's experience with her father.
Where do I even begin? Perhaps with "I never in a million years would have thought this could happen to me." Or maybe, "I was a sexually frustrated housewife, I just didn't know it." However you choose to interpret this tale, all of those stereotypes are true.
I never expected or desired to have sex with anyone other than my husband. I grew up a good Catholic girl. I respected my parents, I honored God, I was not lustful. How I ended up fucking my own father still doesn't quite make sense to me. I guess that in the moment, I let my vagina do the thinking instead of my brain. All I know is that the animal inside me has finally awakened, and my life has not been the same ever since.
Aaron was and still is the love of my life. We married when I was only 21. He was the only man I had ever had sex with, and I was content with that. I did not save myself for marriage. We had fucked plenty before we were married, and despite how Aaron makes it sound, he has made me cum plenty of times. I just had never cum from penetration.
Speaking of Aaron, he is quite the storyteller. At the end of his first chapter, he admitted that his story was about 80% truth to 20% fiction. I would place that number closer to two-thirds truth. That second chapter however, I laughed at some of the things he wrote. I never made him clean my father's cum out of me, nor did I put him in a cage. I did however urge him not to touch himself while watching from the closet, because I did want to fuck him after.
"I understand selling a story, but come on Aaron, really? Sorry to break it to your readers, but your fiction was a little too wild there, and judging by some of the readers' comments, they thought so too."
That said, now that I know he is thinking these things, maybe it is something he wants me to try without having the courage to ask.
"I see you honey! All you have to do is ask."
It is understandable why he wrote the story that way, however, and as you read my version of the events, I think you will see where my disdain for my husband originated, and how it blossomed into his cuckold tale. I may have let the emotions of my first time with my father take over me, but I would never do something with another man that I had not explicitly agreed to with my husband first. (Sorry to all of you cuckold fans out there, maybe Aaron can write a fictional chapter just for you.)
Back to the story at-hand and how this whole thing started anyway. I explained so many times to Aaron how it was common for many women to not orgasm from penetration. It did not mean that I didn't enjoy sex, I just wouldn't cum from it. I could get off other ways; typically, from grinding my clit on his dick or his leg. Oral sex was good, but Aaron was always so worried about me cumming, that he didn't stop and notice that I was having a good time whether or not I had an orgasm.
Let me tell you, it is really hard to cum under that type of pressure. It got to the point where Aaron was almost depressed if he couldn't make me cum, which made it even harder for me to focus on just enjoying the sex. He always insisted that he was the problem. His dick was too small (it's not), he's too inexperienced (he isn't), he puts too much pressure on me (he does).
Even through all this, I never wanted to be with anyone else. It actually hurt that he kept trying to push that onto me. I didn't want to fuck another man, I just wanted him to fuck me without any pressure. Aaron would always keep bringing it up, however. It came to the point where it made sex unenjoyable. I knew why he would watch us fucking in the mirror.
Most women worry that their husband is thinking of another woman during sex. I had to worry that mine was picturing me with another man. I honestly do not know which is worse. I was happy that I did not need to worry about him cheating on me, but I did not know how to handle him wanting me to cheat.
Of course, it wasn't cheating in his mind, but for me, that is the only way I could see it. He was obsessed. It really did strain our relationship; he just could not see it. I tried to tell myself to just consider it for him, but every time I did, I was repulsed by my own thoughts. If I could not even picture myself with another man, it was never going to happen, end of story.
I told Aaron that I could not and would not do it on countless occasions. I gave him the reason that I was afraid to fall in love with the other man, or at the very least, out of love with him. That was mostly true. I just couldn't think of another way to verbalize my feelings. Of course, he took that as a challenge instead of just leaving it be. I guess I should just be thankful that he kept pushing the envelope, but at the time it was exasperating.
When Aaron first started stammering on about how my father wanted to fuck me, I wanted to cry. I wanted to slap the shit out of him. I wanted to scream "STOP!" How can you even think that is something I'd consider? He's my father for heaven's sake. I won't fuck a stranger for you, so your solution is I commit incest with my Dad. I thought he was fucked in the head and I couldn't even bear to look at him for the rest of the night.
This is one of the things Aaron got wrong in his telling of the story. He made it seem that I had said no but was not completely against the idea. I was so much against the idea, that I could not stop thinking about it. As much as it pains me to say it, that's where Aaron played his cards perfectly.
It was like in the movie "Inception." He planted this tiny little idea in the back of my head. The idea was that I wanted to fuck my father. I fought it. I fought it so hard, it was all I could think about every time I even looked at Aaron. I must give him credit where it's due, however. He played it so cool. For the first time in our relationship, he let it go and I couldn't. I wanted to rage at him, but he never mentioned it again. If he had brought it up just once, it would have never happened. I would have raged and gotten out all those feelings that had been building and all those arguments I had constructed in my head.
Instead, my husband was silent. He was caring, but distant, leaving me with just my thoughts. Thoughts that he had planted. Thoughts of my father. What Aaron could not have known was that I already knew what my father was packing. As a girl of about 13, I walked in on my parents having sex. I saw firsthand that my dad had a massive dick.
At the time, I didn't really think anything of it. I just wanted to get out of there as fast as possible and pretend it never happened. In a few years, when I started to experiment with my sexuality, I always compared sizes to what I had seen the day I walked in on my parents. I didn't want to fuck my dad; I just knew that he was bigger than most. Hell, he was bigger than any dildo I ever tried. Honestly, the first time I saw Aaron's dick, I was relieved. At the time, I couldn't imagine taking a dick as big as my father's.
At 19 years old, I was petite and quite lopsided. I am 5 foot 5 inches on a good day. At the time I weighed 110 pounds, and in my head, half of that was in my breasts. My hips had not quite developed, and I thought fitness meant nothing but cardio and starving myself. I was a bean pole with tits up to my neck. An average cock was a relief. Anything bigger would have damn near killed me.
Of course, as I matured, so did my fitness regimen. I began lifting weights. My hips filled out. I grew a booty. I turned my anorexic abs into a 4-pack. I no longer worried about the scale and added several pounds of muscle. I got a breast reduction and implants to reshape what my body had changed. Even with this new body that I absolutely loved, I was terrified of a cock any bigger than Aaron's and frustrated with his attempts to get me to fuck one. Despite my outward changes, inside I was the same petite Victoria.
So, there I was, constantly thinking about my father's dick, waiting to scream at Aaron, while he walked around all smug, like he had never mentioned anything. It was a brilliant play on his part. Of course, I started to run through scenarios in my head. At first, they ended in disaster. As the days wore on, I started picturing what it would be like. For some reason, I stopped being repulsed by the idea and started to get horny. Aaron, meanwhile, deflected all my come-ons.
I needed relief and I needed it badly. I had filthy thoughts on the brain, and I needed to have them extracted. If my husband would not help, I would have to do it myself. The tipping point had finally come. Two weeks after the idea was planted, I fingered myself in the shower. I could not help but to picture my father. I imagined what his huge dick would do to me and I practically came the second I buried my fingers in my soaking wet pussy.
That was the point of no return. At that moment, I was gone. The idea had been burned into my psyche and I would not be satisfied until I had sampled my father's huge cock for myself. If Aaron had been able to see my thoughts in that shower, his poor head would have exploded. Of course, that was his plan all along.
I dressed and went to Aaron to admit defeat. He had beaten me, and now all I could think about was fucking my dad. I couldn't let him know that though. I had to play it as cool as he had for the past two weeks. I acted as if I still needed proof (I didn't). I pretended that my father had no interest in me (I knew). I am a woman. I can tell when a man's eyes are on me, even when that man is my father.
It was no surprise to me that my father had been eyeing me. I was the spitting image of my mother. A younger model that he would love to test drive, forbidden feelings be damned. Aaron thought the set up at the birthday dinner was to trap my father into showing his true feelings. It was really to set up the relationship issues that would convince my mother to send my father to check on me. Of course, I played along for Aaron's sake. I knew being on display would drive him wild, and what girl doesn't love doing that to a man.
Aaron detailed the events of the birthday dinner well, so I will touch on a few things he did not capture. First, my pussy was practically dripping all night. My husband had transformed me from a good little housewife to a filthy-minded whore in only the matter of a few weeks. Even as such, I was highly aware of the consequences of my actions.
I mostly felt bad for my poor mom, who was an unwilling participant in all of this. The only saving grace was that my father had cheated on my mother in the past. Not only did she know, but she had forgiven him of his transgressions. We talked about this in private that evening.
While I did not disclose my plans, she explained that she knew that Dad was unfaithful and had learned to live with it. Their relationship had grown to be asexual, and she just wanted him to be happy and come home to her. This fact is the only reason I followed through on my feelings toward my father. If it would have caused further pain to my mother, it would have been dead in the water.
As it is, I am sure she would be disappointed and furious at both me and my father for our adulterous and incestuous deeds. But I could only do so much, and it was getting harder and harder to push these thoughts out of my head. I'm still ashamed of my actions. I know what I did was wrong in so many ways, but that is what made it so desirable. Knowing all the forbidden desires that I was submitting to had me feeling more sexual than I ever had in my life.
I knew Aaron could tell. I knew what I was about to do would hurt him in ways I couldn't control. I knew that once I fucked my father once that I'd be coming back for more, and I absolutely did not care. There was no stopping this runaway train. I was doing this my way. I would have to hurt my husband in the process, but it was his idea after all. He just didn't have any idea what was in his future.
The day had finally arrived, and my vagina was so engorged it hurt. I didn't know women could get blue balls. I almost fingered myself in the shower, but I knew Aaron was watching my every move from the bedroom. I had to get him out of there. I told him that I needed to be alone with my thoughts, but what I really needed was to get him to stop pressuring me. If he hung around any longer, it would be just like having sex with him, always pressing to make sure I cum.
I knew my dad would make me cum just by looking at my pussy. I didn't need Aaron getting in my head and distracting me, so I sent him away. I almost wanted to hurt him at that moment, and that is why I turned on "Red Light Special." I knew he could hear it, and I knew it would drive him away. It is also why I stayed in our room away from the cameras. I did not want him to see me and I didn't want him in my head when the time came.
Dressing in lingerie for my father was perhaps the most sensual thing I have ever done. I love dressing in lingerie for Aaron, but it can be a chore sometimes, especially when he asks in the heat of the moment. This evening, I knew that not only was I dressing for my father, but I was also dressing for Aaron. I needed to bring my A-game.
Every detail of that outfit was chosen with this in mind. I also had to make it seem like I was going out with friends, when in actuality, I never planned on getting out of the living room. Aaron's description of my outfit was good, but it really didn't do justice.
First, I slipped into my stockings. They were special ordered from the UK just for this outfit. They were a pair of Charnos satin top summer weight stockings. Like Aaron said, so sheer they were practically invisible apart from the glossy finish and the almost golden satin top. They felt even better than they looked. I admired myself in the full-length mirror. They were a near perfect match for my tanned skin. Money well spent.
The lingerie was also special ordered, rush delivery. I had seen several fitness models on Instagram sporting this set in different colors, mostly neon yellow or orange. When I looked it up, the gold immediately caught my eye. I knew it would highlight my skin tone perfectly, and it was a near match for the clubbing outfit I had already chosen. My 32DD breasts were nestled perfectly into the sheer cups. My nipples strained against the sheer material, just showing through the embroidery. The garter belt was flawless. Straps lined the back and sides, while the front was dominated with golden lace.
I of course clasped my stockings with the garters before pulling up the thong panties. ("Sorry Aaron, I know you think that I need your help, but really I just like to tease you by fumbling with the clasps.") There would not be much need for the panties other than the fact they came with the set. They were pristine, however, and they were practically dripping the second I put them on.
The midriff top and mini skirt were purchased from a local store named Akira. They specialize in modern club wear. Most things in the store look like they came directly from a hip-hop video. The halter showed off my abs perfectly, which I adorned with a dangly belly button piercing. It also helped press my breasts up and out the top.
The skirt barely covered anything. It was not meant for the wearer to sit, dance, bend over, or even walk without being indecent. I knew it would drive my dad wild. Aaron described both as being sequined. They weren't as much sequined as they were covered in little reflective gold rectangles embedded within the nude spandex material. They both really shined and highlighted all my curves.
The heels were a nude pump with a double ankle clasp. I find nothing sexier than an ankle clasp on a stiletto, so when I found the double clasp, I knew that I had to have them. I would have preferred a gold pair, but these would work.
I had never felt this attractive in my life. I love dressing up. Like I said before, Aaron loves me in lingerie. This day it wasn't a chore, it was foreplay for me. Not only had it boosted my confidence, but it got me all worked up. I admired myself in the mirror…dripping with sex appeal. I was turning myself on, and now I was getting myself ready to take on my father's 9-inch dick. I was terrified and excited all at the same time. I have no idea how I was still standing in my 6-inch pumps, because my legs were like Jell-O. I was so wobbly that I finally just took a seat on the bed to gather myself.
Once my father had arrived, I knew the seduction would be easy, but making the first move would be the hardest part. I knew it would be up to me. As a father, he could only go so far before I ensured him that his actions were welcomed. As sexual as I was being, I still felt comforted by his presence while we watched the movie. It was as if I were a teenager watching a movie with my boyfriend, nervous but comfortable all at the same time.
I made sure he saw my stocking tops and eventually just a peek of my panties. I was so hot and bothered, I could have plunged my fingers right into my pussy. What I really wanted was my dad's hands on my pussy, so I just decided to go for it and make it happen. I put his hand on my stocking clad thigh. I brushed my vagina through my panties. I practically came right there as I moaned and thrust out my tits.
I knew he wouldn't resist the outward display of sexuality, but still, I gently took his trembling hand and knowingly placed it on my crotch.
"Here's your sign Daddy," I thought, "take it and make me your bitch."
I felt like a bitch in heat. My father could probably feel the heat radiating off my pussy from its place on my thigh.
I whispered to him, "Yes Daddy, right there," as I placed his hand on me in my most intimate place.
As I said those words, the weight of my actions finally hit me. A man other than my husband had just touched me sexually for the first time. The fact that it was my father, and the forbidden nature of our discretion had me melting in his hand. I was going to cum and I was going to cum hard.
It did not take more than a few moments of feeling my dad's rough hands caressing my vagina before I felt the explosion building deep inside me. The orgasm erupted from my clit and spread from there all the way to my head and down to my toes. Every muscle in my body clenched tight as my pussy drenched my father's hand in my juices. If I hadn't been sitting, I would have collapsed from the waves of pleasure. My legs quivered, my eyes fluttered, and my heart raced.
It took me several moments to gather myself, but once I came down from my high, I could really focus on the endgame…getting that huge dick inside of me. I wanted it. I needed it. Nothing was going to stop me from having it. The time had come, and I was going to take what I wanted, consequences be damned.
I made a show out of my little strip tease. Slowly stepping out of my skirt and removing my top to pose for my father. I wanted him to get a good look at me before I devoured him whole. Like a lioness stalking her prey. He knew I was there, and he knew he was defenseless against me. I tore his clothes from him leaving him in his boxers, which I then gently removed, finally exposing the prize that I had been waiting weeks to finally see again. Only this time, I would be on the receiving end of it.
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