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I had never met my daughter. I left before she was even born. I was scared. I felt I was too young for the role, the responsibility. It was an accident, after all. “No, it was no damn accident” my wife responded. But I ignored her. She was right. But it was not convenient for me to admit it. So I walked out.
She asked for the bare minimum in child support and I obliged. Every month, I’d send over the money she asked for.
Sometimes she’d send letters, with pictures of Mary. Other times she’d tell me she needed a bit more money. I barely glanced at them. Ok, fine, here’s $10 more a month. I never answered. I only told her when I moved, so she could keep asking for more money. And send those photos I couldn’t care less about.
It would have cost me nothing to say “oh how adorable” or “how have you been?”. Nothing except my ability to ignore the entire affair, to pretend those payments were an inconvenient car invoice I couldn’t quite pay off.

Over the years, they never left Detroit. No, not that one. The one in Oregon.
I moved cities, states. I even spent a couple years in Mexico. Eventually, I got tired and came back to the US. I settled in Portland. Yes, that one. The one in Oregon. And yet I never made an effort to go and meet my family. Mary, my long estranged daughter, was about to graduate school. Or so the letter from mom said. “She had to work two jobs and take on some student loan debt. I know you don’t owe her anything anymore, but if you can send something, anything, it will help her. She is graduating in 3 months at Washington State, in Vancouver. If you want to meet your daughter, it’s not too far from you. Think about it”

I was not about to think about it. I didn’t see the point. I had never met her. I had routinely ignored every birthday, every Christmas, every milestone. What good would it do for a complete stranger to show up on graduation day? What would we talk about? The weather? I couldn’t quite tell if I had regrets or not. Part of me felt sorry for pushing them away like that. Part of me felt I was too selfish for the role of a family man.

I put a check in the mail and quickly forgot about Mary, her graduation, her two jobs waiting tables, or whatever it was that she did. With the letter, had come a picture of her in a school t-shirt, on campus, laughing with her friends. That picture was about to be the downfall of my 22 years of pretending. It sat on a shelf, forgotten, ignored, or so I wondered.

I wasn’t a young hunter on the prowl anymore. At my age, when I felt the urge strike, I preferred to go online, get on OnlyFans, and discover a cute girl to subscribe to, maybe write some raunchy messages, and then log off, my mind cleared, ready for a good night sleep and a new day of life. Every once in a while, I’d meet a local girl and she’d be eager to go to dinner and a drink, which was inevitably code for sex, provided I had the cash for it.

“Sasha” was absolutely adorable. Dark blonde hair, green eyes, and curves for days. For ten bucks a month, it was a steal. She promised daily updates from her school dorm, very playful and interactive. An absolute bargain, I wondered. So I subscribed. At first, it didn’t click for me. Then, as I kept browsing, I felt something was off. Like I had seen Sasha before. Where, I couldn’t tell. When, I couldn’t tell. But Sasha looked familiar. Maybe at a store? A cashier? A barista? Or maybe just a girl I noticed while walking around town?

It struck me, quite inconveniently, while my hand was deep down inside my pants, tugging at my rock hard cock. It struck me while I was zooming in on Sasha’s hard nipples, and moaning her name. “Sasha” is my daughter. Sasha is Mary. I ran to the other room, grabbed the photo off the shelf, and walked back. It was undeniable. When I ignored her nipples and looked at her face, yes, Sasha on OnlyFans was none other than my daughter Mary. I had ignored this girl, ran away from her for 22 years, only to discover myself jerking off to her photos on the Internet.

Part of me recoiled in horror. Part of me decided it was ok. I had never met Sasha, err, Mary I mean. It wasn’t like I was breaking some sacred bond. I wasn’t some weak dirty old man who ogled at his own daughter, breaking every sacred bond of fatherhood. I was a terrible absent father, who barely sent over any money, who happened to have spawned a particularly attractive offspring, and was turned on by her Internet porn. What was the evil in that? So, I let my hand slide back in my pants and finished what I had started. “Fuck Sasha make daddy cum” I moaned, and laughed at myself, at the irony of it all, while I cleaned up and took a shower before bed.

Initially, I had wondered very little of the incident, if you will. And yet, during the next few days, as I found myself drawn to her OnlyFans more and more, I realized I could live an experience that most men can barely even dream of, an unspoken unconfessed fantasy, could become my reality: I could fuck my daughter. I knew where she worked, I knew where she went to college. All I had to do was show up and weave my way back into her life, and … Well, ok, it wasn’t very likely to work, and it was not very likely to be that common of a fantasy after all. But it had become my fantasy.

I spent a few days thinking about a plan. How would I approach her? Just walking up to her at college saying “Hey I’m dad” was not very likely to work. Messaging her on OnlyFans and fessing up to my indiscretions was not very likely to work either. My plan would be a little more subtle.

I messaged Sasha on OnlyFans, and just said I was a big fan of hers, enjoyed her content so much “wink wink” and that I’d love to talk to her sometimes. She didn’t take long to respond. She thanked me and said she loved chatting with her subscribers. She was wrapping up college so she was a little busy, but she’d generally try to respond within the day. “Like I don’t know” I smirked to myself. I was a bit rusty, but I gained her trust a bit. In between talking about how much she liked to be tied up and fucked hard, she opened up to me. Told me she was doing this to supplement her other job at a Verizon store, that she grew up with a single mom in a small town, and was trying to make her way into the world. Every detail she provided, no matter how minor, confirmed what I already knew. This was my daughter, Mary.

“My dad left before I was even born”, she told me.
“Oh what a dumbass” I responded.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you’re such a smart and sexy and beautiful girl that I would want to be around you all the time” I answered
“Thanks” she said, “but I don’t know if my dad would discover me sexy”
“I would in his shoes” I replied

After waiting for what felt like forever, but was more like 30 seconds, she sent back a “;)”

I knew not to push too hard on the matter, so we talked about something else for a bit, then she got me off, and after I tipped her for the chat, I went to sleep. Or, I went to sit in bed awake. My heart pounded in my chest. That “;)” emoji.. I played and replayed it in my head. It meant I had an in. Maybe I was naive. I tipped her well, of course she was gonna play along with anything I said. But, no, deep inside I felt she was sincere. The wondered of her dad finding her sexy was “;)”

I sent a letter back to her mom, my wife, letting her know that “yes I would love to meet Mary at graduation. Maybe even before than. Here’s my business card with my number. Please let Mary have it and she can reach out to me whenever she is comfortable”

Less than a week later, a phone call. “Hi dad” she mumbled, “it’s your daughter Mary. I haven’t seen you all life”. I laughed, and she laughed. We chatted a bit. She told me what she was up to, and that she was happy to hear from me. I told her I understood if she hated me, “I don’t” she said. “Well, still, you know, it’s OK to have certain feelings. I know what I did. But we can try to start something together. I live in Portland, maybe we can meet for dinner one of these days?” She said she loved the idea. “My place is nice just south of the river, you know if you’re ok with that”. She said she was. “This coming Saturday at 7pm?”, “works for me? anything you can’t eat or drink?”, “no”, “White or red?”, “Red” she said. I liked the girl already.

I spent the rest of the week cleaning up the house, buying bottles of red wine, and preparing the dinner menu for the party of the year

By 5pm on Saturday I was glued to my phone and to the clock. Two hours. Ninety minutes. One hour. She hasn’t flaked yet. No messages. No calls. Forty minutes. Thirty seven. Twenty nine. Fifteen. A message. “On my way ;)”. Oh that smirk. I had never even met the girl and I loved her smirk already.

She knocked at the door on the hour. I opened it. She was as gorgeous as her OnlyFans showed. Perhaps even more. She wore a black dress leaving her shoulders bare, hugging her curves to perfection. We exchanged a very awkward hug, and I invited her to the couch. I poured us some wine and we started talking. She opened up to me with such candor and honesty. She talked about the struggle of her youth, her “daddy issues” as she said laughing, and how excited she was to graduate and start her new adult life. I told her what I did with myself after leaving Detroit, the years I spent in the oil fields in North Dakota, the time in Mexico and how I made some good fortune there buying and selling land. I wasn’t rich, by any means, but I had a decent living. I had no justification for leaving, but I tried to explain why I did what I did, how I was not ready, how I was afraid. “I understand” she said, over dinner. She hoped we could reconnect and become closer now that she was not a chore anymore, but we could be good friends, have dinner every once in a while, and maybe ask for advice. I told her I would love that.

After dinner, I could tell we were both a little tipsy. The wine was getting to our heads, and I was feeling bold. It was now or never. It was my time to make a move. If she rejected me, I would never see her again. If she smirked again, I could become her lover, make the gorgeous Sasha from OnlyFans, my daughter, my lover.

“You look so beautiful” I told her. She smiled. Oh so that’s what the smirk looks like in real life, I wondered to myself. Heavenly. “With your bare shoulders, you’re dressed to kill tonight” I added. She laughed, and thanked me. “Is that something a father is supposed to say?” she asked, “I wouldn’t know. I never had one”. I felt a pang of guilt at her words. But I quickly brushed that away. “I have never been a father, I wouldn’t know. But I have been a man my entire life, and I know that’s what you say when you see a beautiful woman like you” I retorted

“Oh my, quite the flirt you are” she said, playfully pushing me away. I felt about to explode. I felt the desire consuming me. I wanted this woman. No, I needed her. No, I craved her. I went all in. I leaned in. “Look, I know I have been a terrible father to you. I could apologize for years and it wouldn’t do anything to erase my mistakes. But you are so beautiful. So sexy. I cannot be a good father to you. Not anymore. But I can be a lover to you. A good lover. I want you more than words can ever express. Be mine tonight” I whispered in her ear

She froze. Looked at me. Her eyes opened, then closed, then opened, as if she was trying to focus in, trying to make sure she had heard right, she was awake, that this was not a crazy dream. “Yes” she said

I kissed her lips. She didn’t recoil. She put her arms around me, pushed me closer. I felt her tongue, and she felt mine. I felt her body pressed against mine, warm, soft, inviting. We stumbled to the bedroom, unable to get off each other, unable to stop kissing just for those few steps. I unzipped her dress, she took my shirt off. I loved her body. I loved it online. I loved it even more in real life. Before we knew how, we were both naked.

I started at her neck, and licked her, slowly tracing my way down her chest, drawing little circles around her nipples, going down to her belly, kissing her navel, and then landing on her thighs. I kissed and nibbled her inner thighs, and then found my way to her pussy. I found her wet, soaking wet. My tongue flicked her clit. Slowly. I took my time, I savored her juices, listened to her moaning and panting, telling me how good it felt. And then I found my way back to her thighs. And to her tits. And to her lips. “This is what you taste like” I told her, as I kissed her, my face soaked in her wetness. One, then two fingers, slid inside her. I fucked her with my hand. As my mouth kissed hers, as my tongue licked her neck, I fucked her until she came, squeezing my fingers tight, as if a cock she was trying to milk dry.

And then I laid on top of her, the tip of my cock brushing her bush.. I didn’t speak. I made a gesture. She understood. “Yes” she said. I went in.
My cock slowly penetrated my daughter. I was inside her. She fit me like a glove. She was so warm. So tight. So delectable. Every thrust sent shivers down my spine.

As if reading my mind, she asked.. “will you pull out?”
“No” I answered
“Ok” is all she said

I didn’t care if she was on birth control. She didn’t say. She was ready to take me and my cum and that’s all that mattered to me. I fucked her for what felt like forever. We promised each other pleasure beyond belief. I told her no woman felt as good as she did, I told her I wanted this sex to last forever. She begged me to make her cum again. “Squeeze my nipples” she asked, and I obliged. We said “fuck” a lot. And eventually we came. Together. I felt her tight around me. I watched her eyes roll back. And knowing what was happening, I followed her. She came. And I came. My daughter and I. Man and woman. My cum deep inside her. Her juices soaking up my body, my bed, the pungent odor of her sexuality filling the room.

I was a terrible father. But I loved her nonetheless. Just in a different way. We promised to meet again. I promised to be there at graduation. She promised to fuck me for as long as I wanted to fuck her. I was a terrible father, who loved his daughter.

NSFW: yes

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