A Lesson on the Couch

He didn’t touch me the rest of the day! Can you believe it? I sure as hell couldn’t!

I know, I know, we had to be secretive. We couldn’t exactly do much of anything with mom around, but… nothing? Wasn’t that a little suspicious?

While I’d like to say I knew what he was doing, at the time I didn’t. I felt dejected, used, and tossed aside. He was affectionate towards my mother, and made sure I saw. Maybe not every kiss or playful spank, but enough to make me jealous. Jealous of my own mother! I was disgusted in myself for even having such a thought, but fuck, I really was jealous.

The old man had tested our boundaries by touching me in the morning, and awakened something inside me by not taking it further. I craved him, his attention, and the touches I’d never gotten from anyone before. He was driving me mad, fueling a wild fire inside of me I didn’t even appreciate, and when the lights went out that night…

I didn’t go to bed with them that night. My mother asked if everything was ok, mentioning that I’d been a little moody. Of course she noticed, but I was happy I could disguise it enough to just be considered ‘moody.’ I assured her all was well, I just wasn’t ready for bed yet. My father knew, though. Little did I know, he had planted the seeds.

My body was frustratingly alive as I watched some mindless TV. I can’t even recall now what was on, since I wasn’t really paying attention anyway. It must have been an hour before I heard anything, and I had mostly calmed down by then. I was still obsessing, but felt more confident in my ability to find sleep without much effort.

Until he scared the shit out of me. Not literally, but a solid startling. He came up behind me in the living room, silent as a fucking ninja, and placed a hand on my shoulder. Didn’t even say anything, just a sudden touch, one I’d been craving all day.

After some laughter, he came around to the front of the couch. I was in some loose, fleece slacks and an oversized t-shirt, and he was in his typical gym shorts. No shirt. Nothing concealing his powerful chest, the dense hairs curling over his gentle muscles. How had I never noticed before, or been able to ignore his physique? Was it just because of recent events? Why was I feeling so attracted to my father?

He sat next to me on the couch, and I pulled my leg to my chest. My chin rested on my knee, and my foot was tucked under my other thigh. It was a rather defensive position to take, but felt comfortable as he settled in on the couch with me. He started to talk, really talk, and I followed. This isn’t exactly how it went, but gets the important stuff across.

“I love you and your mother very much,” he said. “I would never cheat on her, but last night is something I can’t ignore.”

I nodded as he spoke, wondering if there was any way we could go back to normal. Or, if either of us really wanted to. The way his eyes moved across me was so different from how he looked at me before. Had he been avoiding me all day?

“We need to keep whatever this is quiet, can you do that?” He asked.

I’d been quiet all day, so I agreed. My heart was racing at the prospect of what he was and wasn’t saying. I still didn’t know for sure what I wanted this to be, but I was excited nonetheless.

“If you ever want to stop, you just say ‘stop,’” he continued. “I won’t do anything to hurt you, or abuse you, but it’s important for you to know your own limits.”

That struck me as odd. How far was he hoping this was going to go? Had he been thinking about it all day? His hand was on my knee, and I tipped my head against his fingers. It had always been so comforting, how big his hands are, and even then I felt that comfort from my father. With the heel of his hand on the side of my knee, his palm on my face, fingers in my hair.

“Is there anything you would like to know?” He asked, and holy shit, was there.

Was there? Obviously, yes. But, I couldn’t focus. Not with him teasing my hair, looking into my eyes, and being so close. So undressed, and so close.

I’ve been on the pill for years, thanks in part to debilitating period cramps. They’re unbearable, making it difficult to move for days on end. Birth control has helped significantly, and been an utter lifesaver. He’s mentioned a few times ‘being fixed,’ having gotten a vasectomy sometime after I was born. So, if things ever did get that far, we were covered. STDs were also unlikely, since I hadn’t ever been with anyone, unless he and my mother were keeping a major secret.

“Why did you stop touching me today?” I heard myself ask.

There was surprise in his eyes, along with a bit of hurt. I regretted the question as soon as it left my lips, but didn’t try to take it back. It had been bothering me all day, had me feeling worthless, and I wanted to know why. A smile crept across his lips as he glanced over his shoulder, looking down the hallway towards where the bedroom was.

“So you would want it later,” he answered.

I did want it. The frustration and hurt I’d been struggling with all day was almost entirely forgotten, and I drew in a breath over his thumb when he used it to rub across my lower lip. The touch made my lip tingle, and a shiver rolled down my spine. My nipples pebbled under my shirt, and a ravenous throb struck me between the legs. He knew.

“Anything else you want?” He asked with that smirk I would come to know all too well.

My mind was a blank chaos. Too many thoughts, none of them sticking out, none of them making any sense. I couldn’t think of anything to ask as I sat there, letting him caress my cheek and rub my lower lip.

“We’ll go slow,” he whispered, pushing himself off the couch and bending at the waist in front of me.

I didn’t stop him when he let his hand travel down my leg. His fingers traced their way down from my knee until they found my ankle, and he gave me a light squeeze. The heel of my bare foot hit the carpet first, and I was left sitting there with him standing between my parted knees.

“Do you want to see it?” He asked, and my eyes finally left his.

Down his chest they moved, until I found his shorts. He was visibly aroused, his cock obviously hard under the silky fabric of his shorts. I could see the outline of it, and knew there wouldn’t be any underwear beneath that first layer. My head nodded, and I watched his thumbs hook into the elastic band around his waist.

“Can daddy see yours?” He asked.

I nodded again as he sent his shorts to the floor. They formed a little nest of fabric at his feet, but I was fixated on the bare, meaty cock that looked like it was reaching out to me. His question rang in my ears, none of the words making sense as I looked at every detail.

Never had I seen it in the light. The mushroomed head, purple and smooth, seated at the end of a veiny pole. I wanted to touch it, taste it, feel it in my mouth, but was immobilized. Lust shook through me, and it took another of his touches to snap me back to reality.

“Your turn,” he said in a whisper.

My father was standing in front of me, naked. This shouldn’t ever happen, especially like this. I knew it was wrong, like I did so many times before, but I couldn’t be bothered to stop. Instead, I pushed my toes into the carpet, sending my butt off the couch so I could slip out of my bottoms. The smooth fleece slid down my legs effortlessly, and I kicked them away with a nervous giggle.

If mom wasn’t sleeping very soundly, we were fucked. I still had my shirt, but what could we possibly say if we were caught? We were reckless and stupid, but hopelessly following the urges of our bodies as we looked at one another. Even if she had stumbled onto this lewd display, I doubted either of us could really stop.

“Let daddy see,” he whispered to me.

His fingers touched my shoulder and lightly pushed, guiding me into a reclined position on the couch. My knees spread further, thighs opening wider, and I felt the evening’s chill on my exposed sex. The wetness of my arousal also grew cold on my inner thighs, but the tone in his groan made the fire inside me burst into an internal. I’d never been so hot and cold at the same time, and idly wondered what other firsts I would have with this man.

He praised my “little pussy,” and began stroking himself. Standing in front of the couch was a much better angle, and I was able to see everything. His balls swung as his hand worked up and down his length, and the tensed muscles in his legs were shivering. He groaned as his hand moved up his girthy pole slowly, and I watched a bit of fluid build at his tip.

“See that, baby?” He asked with a breathy groan.

I was so lost in lust that it was hard to focus on what he was saying. He told me about precum, how that one drop was more than enough to get me pregnant. That is, if he hadn’t had the vasectomy. Boys my age, men not “fixed” would be able to put a baby in me with just that one drop, and he said I would need to be careful who I let in without protection.

Even in this lewd, wildly inappropriate situation, he was trying to teach me. And I was so eager to learn. My hungry sex begged for attention, but she could wait. I wanted more, I had to feel it, at the very least.

The words left my lips before they crossed my mind. Asking if I could touch it, which he quickly agreed to. He pulled his hand away from his package, moving his hips forward to present himself to me. I sat up, reaching a nervous hand forward, and touched one finger to his purple head. To my surprise, the texture was spongy. I wasn’t expecting there to be any give, but wasn’t really sure what else to expect.

It was soft. My other fingers joined the exploration, caging his head and wiping that dangerous first drop away from the tip. The urge to taste it was overwhelming, but I needed to go slow. Baby steps, easing into this next chapter of my life. He was patient with me, letting me explore at my leisure, but offered encouraging noises as my fingers moved down his shaft.

That part was hard. As rigid as it looked, without letting my fingers sink into it when they pressed down. I wrapped my fingers around, glancing up at his face as I took him in my hand. He nodded, a hunger clear in his eyes as I began to stroke him. It was awkward at first, a motion I wasn’t really used to, but I began picking up the pace.

His cock was bigger than I thought. Not exactly massive, but definitely larger in my hand. And it felt good. I was huffing for air while stroking him, watching his bulbous head rise when my hand moved up, and dip back down when my fingers approached his base. Bobbing up and down with the motion, getting redder and angrier looking with each pass. I held his thigh with my other hand, and was almost close enough to lick his head as it elevated towards my lips.

Was I ready? I was trapped in a state of mindlessness and overthinking, trying to assure myself that this was all ok while ignoring the taboo wrongness of it. My pussy ached, starved for attention as I gave my father pleasure, and his tip was close enough to my face to smell him. His musk, his raw, primal scent. The smell that had drilled into my senses so many weeks ago, now fanning the flames in my core as I let my pink tongue flick forward.

I touched him with it. Briefly licking his soft, smooth tip before sending it back down with my moving hand. The warmth it left on my tongue made me shiver, but also gag. I wasn’t prepared for the taste, or the almost absent taste. The flavorless feel of it on my tongue, but I knew I had sampled his semen. After the initial reaction, I was left with the enhanced excitement, and stroked him a few more times before licking him again.

The sound he made… my knees trembled, and my hips bucked forward on the couch. This was turning into a problem, and I was going to need release sooner rather than later. Still, I had a task at hand, and was eager to please. He groaned as I ran my hand up and down, still too uncertain and nervous to actually take him into my mouth, but all too eager to lick his lollipop. Over and over, stroking his big, juicy cock and licking the tip, until he let out that eye-rollingly delicious grunt.

Warmth hit my face long before I was ready. His cock jerked in my hand, throbbing as another splash of heat hit my unprepared face. It was way hotter than I had expected, and caught me completely off guard, but I kept still and held his throbbing dick as he gave me my first facial. More and more rushed out of him, hitting my nose, lips, and shirt, making me spasm lightly with each spurt that decorated me.

He offered an apology when he was done, helping me out of my shirt as if it was a completely normal thing to do. I was too lost to realize he was using my own shirt to clean off the mess, but my tongue was bathed in the semen that had snuck into my open mouth. This bit of his nectar tasted different, a saltiness mixed with something savory? I couldn’t quite place the flavor, but knew my taste buds would never forget it.

Coming back to my senses, I noticed I was now fully naked. For the first time since I lacked a feminine shape, I was naked in front of my father. My little tits and stiff, pink nipples were on full display, just as my untrimmed mound and juicy pussy had been earlier. I was shivering, but far from cold as his hands found me again.

He said something about it being my turn, and I wasn’t going to argue. There was just a hint of frustration that he hadn’t warned me, but I knew it wouldn’t come up again as I turned and rested my shoulders against the armrest. One knee was elevated, the leg pressed against the couch cushions meant for backs, and the other was draped lazily off the other side. With my father situated right between them. He had one knee pushed into the couch cushions, and I looked at his other leg. Really, I looked at his partially flaccid, dripping cock, then let my eyes travel down his bent, braced leg and to his foot in the carpet.

His hands found me as I struggled to focus, but they were good. Touching me in all the right places, making me moan as jolts of pleasure raced through me. My core was struck with delight over and over as he explored me, pinching my nipples, twisting them, playing my body like a mastered instrument. Even the tickles he tortured me with felt electric as he dragged them down my torso, raking them across my belly while teasing my breast with his other hand.

I couldn’t process his words, but heard him speaking as he caressed me again. Similar to when we were in bed that morning, but now with nothing between us. His big, warm fingers feeling cold against my steaming cunt, rubbing his palm over my pubic mound as he gave my sex a light squeeze. I was gone, a hand clasped over my mouth as his fingers rubbed up the length of my slit.

My own orgasm was just as surprising as his, but he kept his hand firmly over my mouth as his fingers launched me over the edge. I could feel the muted sensation of water rushing out of me as I came, but his fingers on and around my clit were the main culprits. He rubbed up and down, side to side, and even pinched me down there, every sensation only driving my orgasm to dizzying new heights. My mind shattered, time and reality lost all meaning, and I struggled to remain conscious as he pushed me further and further, and my lungs were struggling to keep up. Darkness fought through the stars in my vision, and I waved a desperate hand to begin for mercy.

The message was received, and his blurred fingers slowed. My throat was sore from screaming into his palm, and my chest heaved for each greedy breath. Wetness glistened all across my body, on his, and on the couch, but I could really only concern myself with his fingers. He hadn’t stopped, was still slowly rubbing and grinding my lips, and I felt his touch dragging across my bones and stabbing into my abused core. It was a new agony, and he smirked down at me before torturing me again. His lips narrowed, and he blew a wicked breath across my chest, making me spasm violently as my body threatened to cum again.

I couldn’t speak, didn’t know if I possessed the capacity anymore, but my stuttered attempt was all it took. His hands left my body, and he leaned back against his own arm rest. I realized my toes were still curled tight, my fingers clenched, every muscle seemingly braced for more, but managed to force myself to relax. Relax… melt… fall back down to earth.

My shirt was covered in damning evidence, but he used it to clean up our crime scene as I basically flopped around. We were both giggling at the ridiculousness of our situation, and he helped me back into my pants before retrieving his own. At his suggestion, I found myself in the shower while he rounded up some fresh clothes, presumably putting my soiled attire in the wash. Once again, he tucked me into bed, sleep took me quickly, and it was the deepest, most restful sleep I can recall having.

Sorry for the length on this one. I think it was the most important turning point in our relationship, though. The encounter that proved I wouldn’t say no, and he demonstrated his talents. I knew he had a lot to teach, and that there was no one in the world I could trust more. I still know this is wrong on every level, but that experience also proved I could never really deny the urges pushing me along. Should I? There’s still a lot to come, plenty more to write, and an impossible amount to wrap my head around. But, I’m trying.