Incest/Taboo A Daughter Becomes Her Father’s Muse

July 30, Noon.

Hi there. Everybody calls me Pixie; that's thanks to Dad. I'm a gymnast, just five feet tall, but solid. I've got black hair and blue eyes. I'm a senior in high school and the only child of Sam and Faith. We live in Raleigh, North Carolina. Well, we LIVED in Raleigh. This blog is the history of what happened to my family in only four months. I'm going to write it as if it were happening. That way, it's like you're there, right?

April 12, 12:05 PM

Dad writes novels, and Mom sells real estate. They are both real good at their jobs. Dad's readership is growing. He's on his fourth book but doesn't make the kind of money Mom does. He will, though. I've read part of the new book.

April 15, 10:34 PM

There is something wrong in the family universe. Mom and Dad are acting more like business partners, not husband and wife. I don't know what's going on. Mom made a comment today, something like she was exhausted from carrying so much. She was looking at us. What the fuck?

May 2, 11:12 AM

I broke up with Karl last night. I mean, the sex was wild. When he put his mouth on my pussy, I went insane. His cock was fine, too. Just big enough to hit all my buttons, and he always made sure I came. But other than that, he's an entitled douche. I'm tired of his stupid, uninformed opinions on everything. There's no changing his mind, and he embarrasses me when he runs his stupid mouth. Oh well. Now it's back to masturbating 3x a day.

May 20, 10:39 PM

The thing with Mom and Dad is getting worse. I don't understand. It's bad. I'm reading new stuff from his book, and it sucks. I'm worried. Mom is out all the time selling houses. She sells big fucking houses, lots of them, more than most of the agents. It seems to turn her on. No, not that way; at least, I don't think so. It's like a power thing, and she waves it at us like a flag. I heard them arguing last night. I couldn't make out the words. There is something about them, about their marriage. I need to check into a few things. This is not a happy home.

June 5, 5:49 PM

Mom's work shares a parking garage with the dying mall. It still has some cool stores, and my dentist has his office on the top floor. Anyway, I park my car where I usually do, by the stairs. I'm not stupid, and I carry Mace. No white windowless van is going to abduct me.

The stairs are locked. Some hand-scrawled note said repairs were needed. I have to walk to the Ra*e stairs. I call them that because they are in the dark corner. I mean, it's 2 in the afternoon, so it's not like I'm gonna get trafficked, but that's not the story. One of the cars is moving, not rolling. I know why. Karl and I fucked in his car or mine all the time. Somebody is hooking up. I move around to get a good look and not be seen. I've never seen real people fuck. My pussy is interested, and I hope it won't be a Ra*e or two ugly fat people. I find a spot and slowly look over the edge of the door. They're in the passenger seat. She's on top- naked- the only way to fuck in a car. She's pounding him- going for it. I get out my phone and zoom in. They look about my parents' age from what I can see. Then I see the tattoo. My mother has that tattoo on her lower back. I drop my phone. My mother is fucking in a car. Not her car, not Dad's truck. My body is confused. My wet pussy loves watching sex, but my brain that loves my dad is mega pissed off. I need to make sure.

I know from my life that if you're fucking, you're zoned out, and they were fucking- big time. I kinda crawl around until I'm next to the car on the opposite side. They aren't talking much. Then the guy says, "Cum for me, Faith. Cum all over my fucking cock."

I know that voice. I put my phone on camera and slowly raised it till it was over the door. I hold it up till my arm hurts. Then, I sneak away. I have to get to my appointment.

June 6, 9:27 AM

I've watched that vid 10x now. You'd think I would be bating, but no. I'm sad and mad, all at the same time. Yeah, it def is Mom, no question. Her totally naked in that car, riding cock. I know him too, like I've met him. He's a new agent at the company. Fucking married, too. This is so fucked up. I don't know what to do.

June 12, 9:09 AM

I'm on a mission. Mom and Dad are still acting like business partners, and I'm sure Dad has no idea what his asshole wife is up to. I need to tell him- tell Dad his wife is a cheating slut, but I need more proof. I've got a plan. Part one: I'm following Mom. My car is a 10-year-old Toyota; it's so bland nobody will notice, especially my self-centered mother. Part two is a theory I have. But I need confirmation. The results from part two just went off in the mail to be analyzed.

I guess I haven't told you about Dad. I love and respect my father. They had me young. He still keeps in shape. I got my black hair and curvy body from him. It looks better on me, tee hee. Got his blue eyes, too. I mean, he has to be a successful author; he LOOKS like the picture you see on the back of those adventure thriller books. He's nice, too. He listens to me. That means a lot. I can hang with him for hours. I'm so mad right now. His writing is awful, and I know it's because my mother is ignoring him, and now I know why. Fucking cunt.

June 21, 9:16 AM

Yeah, sorry, it's been a few days, and what days they were. I had to get a summer job, and that's cutting into surveillance time. I got a tracker thing from Amazon that works off nearby cell phones. Well, Mom doesn't take a shit without her phone, so I stuck it on her Lexus. I'm not gonna sit in my car and follow her around like some bad movie.

My phone just let me know Mom's on the move. I'm in my car cruising through the bougiest neighborhood in the city. I see the house. Mom's Lexus is in the driveway next to a big Mercedes. I park behind the landscaper truck; the crew is laying sod at the house next door, and everybody will assume my crappy car belongs to one of them.

I walk around the back of the house and peek in the window. There are two chairs pulled out in the dining room, and Mom's briefcase and a few papers are on the table. My heart's pounding. I slip in the door. I can hear them upstairs. Voices, well, his. I look at the papers. It's a sale contract with the guy's signature. Really? Buy the house, and I'll fuck you? What a fucking slut.

I look down and see Mom's panties on the floor. I nudge them with my toe- fucking soaked. I put my phone on camera and creep up the stairs.

The bedroom door is open, but I can't see them. I hear them, though. Sucking noises, sloppy. Mom saying, 'fuck you have a big dick. My jaw hurts.' I'm at the doorway and poke my phone around. If they see me, I'm dead, but I don't care. The dude sounds black. I know that sounds racist, but you know what I mean. Not ghetto black, oh fuck, you know. The guy says, 'Then get your ass on the bed.'

I hear them moving and then the bed's slamming against the wall. 'Man, you got a tight pussy.' He pants.

'Your cock is going too far.' Mom yelps.

'Too bad, bitch, you made the deal, now take the cock.'

That's enough for me. I sneak back down the stairs and out the back door.

Okay, I'm back in my car, crying, watching the video. He was black. Kinda average build but, man he had a big cock. I know, I know, but in this case, it was true. My slut mother on her knees, trying to get as much of that cock into her mouth as she can as he's holding her head and pushing. It's so demeaning. On the bed, he was behind Mom- her dress thrown up over her back, holding her hips and fucking her, driving her head into the headboard. Mom's big tits swaying under her; she has big ones; mine are like, where are they? I want to barf.

Two days later, two days! Really? I'm looking through another slider. It's open three inches; I can hear and see everything. She's talking to an electrician- not much older than me- tall and lean with a big mess of blond hair and killer brown eyes, that kinda sleepy look.

"Rob, It's Monday. I need you here tomorrow to finish. I need this job inspected by next Monday, and it takes days to get the inspector here."

"Mrs. Foster, I can't get back here till next week; I've gotta finish 4509."

"Rob, I need this house ready. Let me check my calendar." Mom has this kinda sundress thing on- obviously not selling today- no bra either. It's short, really short. She turns away from Rob and bends over to look at her calendar sitting on the floor. Her dress rides up, and, gee, what a surprise, Mom had no undies on. Rob's tongue about falls out of his mouth. Mom takes her time, and then I see the mirror on the wall in front of her. She's watching Rob and the swelling of his cock. She smiles. Men are so easy.

Something clicked in me; it was like I'm not watching my mother anymore, just some MILF. There's probably some shrink word for it, but all I know is I just flew past angry to horny. I'm not fighting the feeling.

Mom fakes looking in her date book, showing Rob her wet twat. He's rubbing a pretty good bulge in his jeans while Mom glances at the mirror, smiling. She straightens up and turns, just catching Rob.

"Rob, were you looking at me? All my panties were in the wash this morning, and I forgot how short this little dress is."

She's being sooo obvious, but Rob and his dick bulge fall for it. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Foster, that was rude."

I'm getting excited. This is fucked up, but there's no way to deny it, I'm a voyeur.

Now, Mom, the cougar, moves in, standing inches away from this guy. He doesn't back up, but his face looks like he is expecting to get slapped. Surprise, buddy. My mother gently touches that bulge. Rob's eyes bug out, and he's panting. "Mrs. Foster, what are you...?"

I slide my hand inside my shorts and panties. I'm soaked. I put the tip of one finger on my clit and press while I watch.

"Rob, I should be offended- you were looking at my vagina, but you don't seem to mind that I'm an old lady."

"Mrs. Foster, you're not old, you're..."

Mom firmly places her palm against that bulge. "Say what you're thinking, Rob. Be bold."

The words fall out of his mouth like marbles, "You're fucking hot as hell, and I could look at you all day."

Mom's other hand moves up and slips the strap of her dress off her shoulder. "Wow. That's the nicest compliment I've gotten in a long time. Would you like to see more?"

Rob's standing, his hands at his sides, his mouth hanging open, just nodding. Mom's hand is on the other strap. "Words, Rob. Use your words."

"I'd like to see it all." He gulps. "I want to see you naked, please."

She holds that strap. If she lets go, that dress is gonna drop. She's still massaging Rob's cock.

"Now, Rob, if I let go of this strap, will my work here get done tomorrow?"

I see it on his face, just a tiny smile. "No way before..." he pauses. I smile; that guy just figured out my mother; I know it.

"I really wanna help you, but I can't get here before Friday."

I stifle a laugh. My mother thought she had this kid wrapped around her finger. Now I know he's playing her. He wants to fuck my mother. She's still holding that strap, but the other side has dropped, and one of her tits is out. She releases the strap, and her tiny dress falls to her feet. Her nipples are like bullets.

"Oops. Looks like you got your wish. Tuesday?"

My mother is a beautiful woman, tall and trim, her breasts standing proud. Rob's doing a bad job of hiding his astonishment.

"Damn, you're beautiful, I might be able to get here Thursday."

Mom smiles. I bet she thought she was winning; do a little show, and she'd get her way.

"If I let you- touch me, can it be Tuesday?"

Rob doesn't answer. His hands move up and hold Mom's breasts. His fingers toy with her nips. Oh, he knows exactly what he is doing. She's breathing hard.

"Wednesday, Mrs. Foster. I have to meet Mrs. Blake in ten minutes."

She doesn't bitch that he's fondling her tits and still refusing. All three of us know she's desperate, and Rob just upped the ante. Mom slowly drops down to her knees.

"I think I know how we can both get what we want."

Rob stands there while Mom, on her knees, unbuckles his belt and works the button on his jeans. I've cum once already and I'm close to my second climax. I had no idea watching my mother have sex would turn me on so much. Mom unzips him and shoves his jeans and briefs down as I sigh and orgasm. He has a nice cock; not huge, cut, with an up curve- and very hard. Mom holds it in her hand and opens her mouth. "Tuesday?"

Rob looks down into her eyes as his hands touch her head. "Cum in your mouth for Tuesday."

Mom smiles. One hand holds Rob's cock; the other moves between her legs, and she cups her pussy. "Deal."

She takes him all into her mouth as he groans. "So, fuckin' nice."

I slide two fingers deep inside and put my thumb on my clit. I no longer think of her as Mom.

Rob must be pretty wound up; it doesn't take long before his breathing changes, and he grips Faith's head. She knows it too and ups her pace. I try to time it but fail. I crest again, and seconds later, Rob shoves his cock deep. His cute ass clenches as he releases into Faith's mouth, her nearly gagging. So nasty.

He steps back. Faith looks up. "So, Tuesday?"

Rob's putting his dick away. "Eight AM."

Faith gets up, and Rob moves in. His hand is between her legs. She gasps as he fingers her. "Oh, and you'll need to be here before I sign off on the job."

Faith has her hands on his shoulders. "Why?"

Rob takes his hand away and turns to leave. "Wear something easy to get off."

I have my hand in my mouth, stifling a laugh. My mother just got owned like she deserves. I close out the camera app and sneak back to my car.

June 23, 3:32 PM

Faith just got a phone call and left the house. I left two minutes after her. She's turned into a development. It's older, not all new houses. I stop, keeping her in sight. She turns a corner, and I follow till I see her park in the driveway of a house with one of her company's signs in the yard. There's a fancy pickup already there. I watch her pull in next to the pickup and get out, look up, and wave at a second-floor window while she's walking to the house. I park and run around back.

I peek and don't see her on the first floor. I love these houses; they're so desperate to sell them that they leave the doors unlocked. I crack the slider and hear voices. I slip in; they're upstairs. I gently walk up the carpeted stairs, keeping my feet at the ends of the treads; they squeak sometimes.

They're in the master, of course. The door is partially closed. I look through the space on the hinge side. He's a good-looking guy- mid-thirties, with brown hair, and a fucking wedding ring. This obviously isn't their first time.

They're stripping in a hurry. I'm watching a reflection in a large mirror, good enough. I get my phone up and hit record.

He obviously has been waiting but is still in his expensive business suit. He kicks off his shoes.

"Faith, I've been looking forward to this."

The jacket and tie are on the floor, and he's undoing his shirt buttons while Faith unzips her dress. "You have no idea how much I want this, Frank."

I don't think she's trying to sell this house. His pants and shirt are gone. Nice bulge in his boxer briefs. "Mary won't let me fuck her ass," he whines.

Slut Faith, her dress on the floor and her bra dropping says, "I love a cock up my ass. My husband fucks me there all the time."

Fuck, fuck, fuck you- you nasty, lying, fucking slut, whore.

My mother slips off her thong as Frank shoves his boxer briefs down and kicks them away. "I couldn't believe that a woman as beautiful as you would find me attractive."

Okay, he is kinda dull dull-looking, but is he really that dumb?

Faith's taking stuff out of a bag. "You are a handsome man and a gifted lover. I was happy to seal the deal with a quick fuck in your new home, but now you can fulfill my favorite fantasy."

Faith fingers lube into her asshole then hands the tube to Frank, and he pastes his pencil dick. "I've been thinking about your ass all week."

"And now it's all yours," Faith says as she gets on the bed, which I see has a couple of beach towels spread on it. She climbs on and gets on all fours, then looks over her shoulder. "You have the perfect cock for ass-fucking, now get up here and in my butt."

I've put my finger up my ass. It was nice, but I can't imagine anything bigger, even Frank's slim cock.

As Frank puts the head of his cock at Faith's hole, I see the dildo in her hand and at her pussy. "You mind if I pretend I'm getting DP'd?"

Faith grunts as Frank gets his dick in. "Not one bit, Faith. Fuck away, it'll make your cute little ass tighter."

I'm sure they aren't paying any attention, but I concentrate on keeping my phone steady, which means I can't finger myself.

Frank is trim, with a nice ass that I watch clench as he rams his dick up my mother's butt. Faith has her face in those towels and is fucking herself with that dildo as she moans. The scent of sexual excitement is wafting through the air. Frank has his hands clamped on Faith's trim hips and a look of wanton lust on his face.

"Faith, I love your ass. I wanna fuck this again."

My mother doesn't answer; her pussy is pouring out onto the towel. She must be cumming nonstop if that's possible.

Frank picks up the pace. He's gonna cum. He growls, rams deep, and holds. I see his ass clench as he releases deep inside my mother. What a fucking slut, but I'm soaked.

Frank pulls back and out, and Faith rolls over. "Frank, I need one more, suck my clit!"

Dutiful little Frank dives in and puts his mouth on Faith's clitoris. She holds his head with one hand and fucks herself with the other, howling as she cums all over his obedient little face.

Show's over; it's time to leave.

Now I'm masturbating to these videos. My mother is a cheating slut, and what am I that I get off on it? I know how this is going to end, so I guess I've, what, transitioned to being a child of divorce? I'm not seeing my mother anymore. I see her as just a horny MILF. I probably should talk to somebody about this, but I'm enjoying it.

I'd followed her today, assuming it was another fuck for a sale. When I get to the back door, there's yelling; I see two women. My mother is pissed. The other woman's older, forties, but damn good-looking. They are nose to nose. I guess the old lady is trying to take Faith's sale. Hope Faith didn't fuck the guy already, be a shame to waste a fuck on a lost sale. I've gotten so cynical.

Faith is losing the argument. She takes a breath and pleads. "Mary, I need this sale. You sell twice what I do. Please."

I'm watching this Mary woman just staring at Faith. Something's up. They've stopped talking. My jaw falls open when Mary runs her hand lightly down Faith's face and neck and over her fucking tits. What the fuck? Faith just stands there. Mary says, "You know what you need to do. The same as last time."

I'm staring, not believing as my slut mother steps back, untucks, and unbuttons her blouse, letting it fall off her shoulders. What? As Mary watches, biting her lip, Faith reaches back and unclips her bra, letting it fall off. Faith is average height, a little thin, which makes her tits look even bigger. Mary just watches. Faith unzips her skirt and lets it drop, no panties. Faith stands there, naked and very comfortable. She is beautiful, I have to admit.

Mary says. "Keep going."

Faith moves closer; their bodies are pressed together. She reaches behind Mary, unzips her dress, and lets it cascade around her feet. Mary is shapely but full-figured. Still pressed against her, Faith unclips Mary's bra and backs away, holding it briefly, then dropping it at her feet. Mary's tits are smaller than Faith's but stick straight out. Man, did I lose the tit lottery. Faith kneels, her face close to Mary's panties as she slips her fingers into the waistband of Mary's kelly green thong and slowly slides it down the older woman's legs. Mary's pussy is smooth, too; not my thing, but it looks nice.

They're both naked. I'm soaked. I know I've been on the edge of bi, and now I'm sure. I want to try. Mary says, "Tell me what you'll do to get this client." Faith takes her shoulders and steers her towards a big ottoman. "I will lick your pussy until you cum in my mouth."

My mother is gay? No, no way. She's bi, like I want to be, I guess. Well, no guessing here because Mary lays back, and Faith kneels before her. I watch her face move closer, her tongue extended. Mary gasps, 'Oh, Faith!' as contact is made. My mother slides a hand up Mary's leg and prods a manicured finger up Mary's ass. Mary moans and buries her fingers in my mother's hair and pulls her in. From my angle, I can see my mother's cunt, all open and wet, and her little asshole, and that fucking tattoo. For once, I am more than a little buzzed. I won't lie, I've thought about girl sex, and being in a prolonged dry spell gets my horny brain wandering as I watch Faith fingering her own pussy, and Mary's ass. No doubt, she's into girls too.

Mary's, jamming her pussy into Faith's face. She yells, and I see juice splashing. Fuck that's some cum. Faith raises her head and says, "Thank you, Mary."

Mary pets her head. "You are as good as always. Now let's have some fun."

They exchange places, and Mary presses her face against Faith's vagina and licks her till my mother arches her ass and howls as she climaxes. Giggling and breathless, they get on the floor, arranging themselves in a 69 with ass-fingering. I'm at that window, my shorts and panties down, ramming two fingers into my pussy.

"Let's trib," Mary says, and they move around until they scissor, and their vaginas are pressed together. I cum again as I watch them grinding their sexes, sloppy, wet sounds filling the room. I get it all, an hour's worth. They're a sweaty mess when they get done. I sneak off.

I'm on my bed, naked watching this and fingering my pussy. I am not the young, innocent woman of just a few months ago. My thinking and attitude have evolved, or has it devolved? I've got enough videos.

July 1, 8:08 AM

This is so unfair. My dad's super writing career is going up in flames while my mother fucks her way into a new tax bracket. I have to tell him, but I don't know how. He is so nice, so loving. I can't bear to see the look on his face. If I send him the videos, he'll know it was me. I'm not getting shit for sleep.

July 4, 8:19 AM

Independence Day in more ways than one. Yeah, I know you all thought of it, but it took me a little. I got a burner phone from Walmart, and I got my reply to my inquiry in the mail.

July 6, 8:40 AM

I did it. I sent the first video to Dad. No words, just the video. Now I wait. I don't know what I'm going to do. He is going to ask who I am, and I don't have a plan. Or maybe he's just gonna blow up at Faith, show her the vid, and storm out, leaving me to live with the slut. Sleeping would be nice, but I haven't had a good night's sleep since I recorded my mother fucking the first time.

July 7, 8:00 AM

I just woke up and checked the burner. He texted back. I know. That's it. That's IT? WTF? Is it: 'I know, and I don't care,' 'I know, and I'm too weak to fight,' or 'I know, and I fucking like it?' And why didn't he ask who I was?

'I know.' What the fuck kind of answer is that? Faith's gone to fuck for commissions. Now I have to get up and have breakfast with 'I know.'

I'm sitting in the kitchen; it's fucking huge, like everything in this house, all of it a stage for my mother and her big dreams; I hate it. I'm in my usual morning stuff, a long tee shirt and booty shorts. Dad's here, wearing those black silk boxers. He has a few pairs; I do the laundry sometimes. Until now, I never noticed. I never noticed how they kinda bunch up between his ass cheeks, how the head of his dick kinda pokes the fabric. Oh, fuck, what am I thinking?

We get our breakfast and sit at the table.

Dad is an amazing guy, and he's getting screwed, but not in the right way, and I want to know why. I have to be careful and think about what I'm saying. He doesn't know I know.

"Dad, how much of all this do you pay for?"

He blushes and fiddles with his spoon. "You don't need to know all that stuff, Pixie."

He's sitting, looking down into his coffee cup. I feel so sorry for him. I know he isn't cool with Faith being the provider.

"How many followers do you have, Dad?" I ask to change the subject to a more pleasant topic.

He looks up and smiles. "Ten K and rising. I put any profits from the books into marketing, setting the stage for number five." He goes back to stirring his coffee, avoiding my eyes. "So, this. This is all from Mom's commissions."

"I know." I reply, "It's okay, Dad. All this is going to get you on the New York Times bestseller list. It's time. You're only thirty-four; you've got a long career ahead. Do whatever you need to do to get where you belong. I'll do whatever I can to help."

My father picks his head up. He looks at me but says nothing--those blue eyes. I can feel him looking, and I sense him thinking. But what? I'd just blurted words that could sound very bad, or very good, depending on how he chooses to interpret them. I bite my lip just a little and, for the first time, look at this amazing man, who is also my father, in a different way.

Dad finishes his coffee, gets up, and puts the mug in the dishwasher.

"Yeah, Pixie. I'm trying right now, but the going is tough, and my writing is suffering."

When I was a kid, Dad hugged me a lot. When I changed into a woman, well, a muscular, small-titted woman, he stopped. He never said anything, but I think he was just uncomfortable.

I get up, walk to him, gently turn him, and slide my arms safely around his waist, laying my head against his chest. He's surprised, exhales deeply, and wraps his arms around me. I fight the urge to cry.

He feels strong in my arms. His hands are flat against my lower back. He's relaxed and comfortable. I just want to be there for my father, and at that moment, I realize that something is stirring in me. Something that has never occurred to me. Something wrong, something very powerful and dangerous.

"I love you, Pixie," he whispers into my hair.

"I love you so much, Dad," I reply.

And then I feel it. I'm no virgin, and I've hugged a lot of guys, so I know that feeling when a penis is swelling, and Dad's is. He pulls away quickly and leaves the kitchen, saying over his shoulder, "Gotta get to work; the book isn't gonna write itself."

I know more about my dad than he thinks I do. My father has urges-- for me. I repeat that to myself, over and over: my father has urges for me. He sees me as a woman, not just his daughter. He has those same powerful and dangerous feelings that I do.

July 7, 3:00 PM

Work was slow; they sent me home early. I'm lying on my bed. I'm naked, and I just finished masturbating. I fucked myself for like an hour. My sheets are soaked. I'm covered in sweat and filled with guilt. Yeah, for the first time in my life, I masturbated imagining my father fucking me. This is so wrong, but I can help him. This is something I can do to get him in a better mood to write. I like sex. I like sex a lot. I know he likes sex; I've heard him and Faith, and I actually caught them once. I didn't see anything, but it was obvious, so I know.

I need to calm down and slow down. What I'm thinking is crazy. I'm going over to Janet's house. She's my bestie, and we'll probably go shopping. I need to get away from Dad.

July 7, 5:30 PM

Okay, all you sickies, just to make it clear, I'm not having a sexual relationship with Janet, okay? And I did NOT tell her what was going on.

I'm back in my room. I check the burner. He sent a message.

We don't have sex anymore. She's not interested in me.

I stare at the phone. I have to choose my words carefully. He's bared his innermost thoughts. He could have said a lot of things; he chose those for a reason. We talked and hugged at breakfast, and now he's telling secrets. Did what I said encourage him? He still hasn't asked who I am. He doesn't know it's me yet. Or does he? If he isn't asking, he wants anonymity, and that's fine with me.

It's not you. You are a very attractive man in many ways.

Three dots are blinking. Oh, fuck, he's on his phone. I need to think more, and he's right there waiting. The way I wrote that, he knows he's talking to a woman. My newfound vision of my father is messing with my mind. My hands are shaking. The screen blinks with a new message.

I'm not feeling attractive.

My fingers fly, and it's gone before I think about it.

You are to someone in every way.

I look at the phone. Shit, I wrote that and sent it too fast. What the fuck am I thinking? Who does he think he's talking to? Can he tell, just from a hug, that his daughter sees him as more than just her father, a lot more? Is he thinking that I felt his penis getting bigger as held me and didn't freak out?

No dots. I stare at the phone for a few minutes. Nothing. Well, I fucked that up pretty well. I toss the burner on my bed and pick up my real phone to check my socials. But as I do that, I keep looking at the cheap phone lying on my bed face-down.

My socials were full of all the usual drama; I can't wait to go to college. I pick up the burner--a new message.

Does she really mean that?

I text back. I'm in it now, can't back off. This is so fucked up, playing this game, but I am so turned on.

Yes.

Three dots, fuck is he getting any writing done?

That way?

My hands are shaking as I type. This is so dangerous and insane. I could wreck my relationship with my father. He never asks who I am. What's that phrase, plausible deniability? He knows- he has to know it's me, and he's playing it safe, or not. Maybe he's picturing one of the many women who read his books. I'm writing the texts in some weird way to pretend I'm talking about somebody else. It's stupid, but he's playing along. Does he think it's me, or is he looking to hook up behind Mom's back, like she'd care? My father is just arm candy for her.

I can back off. Say, maybe, or some other words that disguise my desire. He's letting me make the decision.

Yes.

He's back in seconds.

That's wrong.

I'm not thinking anymore, just reacting, and my pussy is getting wet. I'm so fucked up.

Consenting adults.

Fuck, stupid move. Now he'll know I'm a young woman. A real adult wouldn't say that, or would they? I mean if 'she' is married too, she might say that to clear the air. This was so fucking complicated.

But. It's. Wrong.

I can see him sitting, looking at his phone, his desire fighting with his morals. Does he think it was another woman? Does he think it's me? What if he's figured out that his daughter is sending him messages, and he likes it? What am I getting myself into? This is crazy. It's so dangerous. I don't know anybody who's ever done this, and I've never read anything about it. I'm one message away from changing my life. But I love my father, and this is just a deeper way of showing it, right?

I type; she doesn't care.

I want to say, 'I love you,' but that is too obvious a hint that it's me. This is a weird game, but I know I'm helping him. I check the phone for the next hour, but there's nothing. Fuck. Have I just made the biggest mistake of my life? I've fucked up my relationship with my father, I've fucked his ability to write, and now he'll have to stay married to my slut mother and be a miserable- what's that word, cuck-old. Weird fucking word. Faith just got home. Wonder who she fucked today. Before I go downstairs to be a part of the theater that our family has become, I'll send one more message.

Pay attention and take a chance. If you want to.

I stare at the sent message. Fuck I do things too quickly, not thinking. Fuck fuck fuck. There is no way he isn't gonna figure out that his daughter is coming on to him. That his daughter sees him as a sexual being, which I so do, but now... Fuck.

July 7, 11:03 PM

I have no appetite for the food in front of me. It's like a bad TV show, all stiff and superficial. Faith is gushing about work and all the new bougie houses that are being built for all the asshole Yankees moving down. Dad keeps sneaking a look at me. I catch his eye a few times but just smile weakly. He rolls his eyes and nods his head towards Faith, who never shuts up. That gets a smile out of me, which makes him smile. He seems different. Does he know?

After dinner, Faith goes to her office off the living room. She leaves the door open, so at least she isn't sending videos of her pussy out tonight.

Dad and I watch a movie. I sit next to him, close. No biggie, I've done it before, but tonight I hold his hand for a while. I glance at him, and he looks content. We talk about my college plans and which school is making the biggest offer. I don't know why I bother, my mother could buy the fucking college, but she insists I go for scholarships.

I love being next to him, in contact, yeah, still dressed, but we're both in shorts, and his leg is against mine. He squeezes my hand gently and I feel my vagina wet.

Faith has gone to bed; it's just Dad and me. The movie is over. We get up, and Dad's folding the fleece. He drops it on the couch and turns to face me. We usually say, 'Good night,' but I get a crazy stupid idea. I move in and hug my father. He doesn't flinch or pull back; he hugs me back, hard.

"I love you, Pixie," he says. It all feels different. I know, it's just my brain fucking with me. I look up into his eyes. I swear there's a tear. Then I do it. I touch my lips to his, just for a micro-second. His eyes open wide.

I look up at him and say, "I love you so much, Dad.' He just stares at me, but in a nice way? I let go and walk to my room; my hands are shaking.

I'm a fucking mess. I know I went too far. But I felt him growing. I know I fucked up, but my pussy is so fucking wet right now. I'm done. That's it for tonight. Pixie's gonna fuck herself to sleep.

July 10, 2 PM

Yeah, been a few days. I backed way off. I'm scared. This is all so intense. I still can't tell if my dad knows it's me that's been texting. I told him to pay attention and take a chance, and I've been kinda avoiding him. I checked the phone, but no new messages. I think he wants his 'secret correspondent' to initiate.

So, yesterday, I went to the mall with my bestie Janet. You know, the one I am NOT having sex with. I'll admit I've thought about it, especially after that video of Faith and that Mary woman. Won't lie; it got me going, but I've never done that, and Janet has never given the slightest indication, and I'd hate to wreck our friendship.

I bought some really cool shorts. Nice and loose, soft fabric; I love them, and I have a plan. When I got home, I took my seam ripper and removed the sewn-in underwear. Now I have three pairs of very loose-leg shorts. Easy to peek, easy to slip a hand in, easy to test my father.

He's sitting by the pool. Faith's off being a slut. Okay, that's cruel, but she's hurting Dad, and that hurts me.

I slip on my favorite thong, yellow, and my new shorts, the green pair- I got three different colors- and a tank top, no bra. I need a bra like a lifeguard needs an anvil. Well, I do wear them because even though I have these A-cup beauties, my nipples are fat and get very long when I'm turned on, which seems to happen a lot these days when I'm around my father.

As I walk through the house towards the pool, I fight to control my breathing. I have to stop to take a few deep breaths. I'm out on a limb with this idea. Today, I'll know for sure if my dad sees me as more than his daughter. I think maybe. Fuck this is so hard.

July 10, 4:30 PM

Dad looks up when I open the slider and walk out. He has his board shorts on, and he's making notes.

"Hey, kiddo,"

I take a breath. "Hey Dad. You looked lonely, so I thought I'd join you."

I stand there in the sunlight with no fucking idea what to do next. Dad puts his notebook down. He just looks at me for a minute.

"You're in really great shape, Pixie. You've been working hard."

Feeling way braver than I should, I walk over and stand next to the lounge, at around his knees. Dad's looking me over.

"Yeah, you have a lot more definition in your legs."

I move up, and Dad extends his right hand and touches the inside of my right leg, near my knee. His fingers feel like branding irons on my skin. I feel my vagina juicing. Dad catches my eyes, "Are these shorts new?"

His fingers leave my leg and capture the edge of the leg of the shorts, the backs of his fingers brush my thigh.

"Yeah, I got them yesterday. You like them? I bought them for you."

What the fuck did I just say? Dad is still looking at me. He doesn't react, but he's pressing the back of his hand against my leg. Still holding the fabric. A signal? I need to respond. I shift my legs, moving closer, then open them a tiny bit. Dad looks into my eyes, and I bite my lip. I'm shaking.

I'm leaning against the side of that lounge, my body almost even with Dad's shoulder. We're staring at each other. His fingers release the fabric, and he traces the back of his hand across my thigh, turning his hand over. His whole hand is palm-down on the inside of my right thigh, just below the hem of those shorts, thumb pointing up. My hands are at my side. I move my arms. Dad stops as I slide my hands up my thighs and cross them high on my belly, interlacing my fingers, my thumbs at the bottom edge of my breasts. Giving permission, I think.

Dad's hand moves up an inch. I open my legs just a tiny bit more. With my peripheral vision, I see the growing bulge in his swimsuit. My father is getting an erection from touching his daughter. My thong panties are soaked, and I'm shaking.

"A lot more definition," Dad whispers as his fingers move up another inch. We are still staring at each other, but his eyes flick down to where his hand has pushed up the leg of my shorts, exposing my thong panty. I feel his hand tremor as I see his cock flinch in his shorts.

Then I feel it. My dad's finger touches the edge of my thong at the leg hole. He moves it right, and the pad of his finger caresses across the fabric. I know he can feel my tangle of pubic hair and the wetness. I gasp quietly when that fingertip finds my swollen clit.

Dad yanks his hand out and gets up, not even trying to hide the poky boner he has. He turns and walks towards the house, mumbling, "I have to get back to work."

I run to my room, slam the door, and jump up on my bed. I shove those shorts off and put my hand where Dad's was, masturbating furiously through that thong. I howl into my pillow as I climax, feeling a flood pour out of me.

I lay there, still panting. This is so fucked up, but it feels so good. I need a shower. I leave my drenched thong on the floor, the gusset pointing at my open door. I got the idea from a Reddit post.

I took a while in the shower, washed my hair, and masturbated again; that handheld shower nozzle is awesome.

At my door, wrapped in a towel, I stare. My thong is on the floor, open with cum piled on top of the inside of the wet gusset. Oh, fuck, this is getting way real.

I close my door and sit on the bed. The towel falls off. That thong. That wet, cum-filled thong stares at me. There is no doubt that my father has sexual urges for me. We're playing a game, a dangerous game. Urges are one thing, action is another. He freaked when he touched my pussy over my thong, but he just masturbated in it and left it. Is this the boundary? No touching, just... Fuck, this is so confusing.

The slut just got home. I smile at my door, bend down, and slip on my messy thong and those same shorts. This is going to be fun. The burner glows--a text.​