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NSFW: yes
Life can be a bitch. It can bring you down on your knees within the blink of an eye. It did that to me about two years ago. My 58 year old wife and 55 year old me filed for a divorce. We barely were able to stand each others presence anymore. It just was enough. It was time to end it.
No, we weren’t giving up on the first sight of trouble. We went through a lot of ups and down in our 35 years together. We tried to fix our relationship. We brought in professional help. We tried to light the flame in bed again. But we failed. We failed horrible. So we both decided to end our marriage.
Nonetheless it hurt. It really hurt losing her. It fucked me up. It broke my heart. Because somehow I still was in love with her. The day she moved out, I jumped onto a gigantic downward spiral. I lost my will to life. I saw no point in going on. I only dragged myself through my life from that day on. I stopped exercising, I stopped taking care of my house – my wife tried to get her hands on it, but luckily my lawyer knew his job – and I stopped going out at all.
All I did was dragging myself to work five days a week and watching TV while filling my body with junk food. While my home turned into a cockroaches wet dream. It stayed that way for about six months. Then I received one call. One call – that looking back from now – changed everything: It was my 32 year old daughter. She had split up with her boyfriend. The main reason was that she wanted kids, and he not. And she wasn’t getting any younger. So she asked me, her father, not her mother, for help, for a place to stay.
I drove over to my daughter’s ex boyfriends place – yes, it was his house, and his house only – the next day. I brought some friends and a small truck with me. Within a few hours we had all of her stuff loaded and were back to my place. And yes, we took my daughter with us too. Not just her stuff.
After arriving at my place, after heading in, my daughter just shook her head: “Cleaning isn’t yours dad, isn’t it?”
I shrugged my shoulders. Told my daughter that I am sorry. Then she gave out some orders. We began to clean up the place. She was the one in command of the operation. It took us two days to get rid of all of the dirt. To bring all the trash out. It sucked, it was annoying as fuck, but it I survived it.
After the house was cleaned up, we brought my daughter’s stuff in from the garage – my friends unloaded the truck while my daughter and me, her father, were cleaning the house. Space was plenty, because her mother, my ex wife took most of the furniture with her when she moved out. It was her good right to do so, because she bought it all. She was the one doing interior design in our home, not me.
It took us another day to get all the furniture, all the decorative objects into the house. It took my daughter by far longer to discover the right place for everything, to turn the place into a comfy, cozy home again. But it was worth it. It made me feel better, it made her feel better. And we both needed some cheering up, because, well, our hearts were still broken.
Besides fixing up my, or better said, our place, we spend a lot of time talking with each other. We met up for dinner every night. And we talked. We talked about everything. About our past relationships, about our plans for the future, about our daily struggles. We went from a not very close father daughter relationship to friends. Within a few weeks.
Besides that, we both began to look for some new partners in our lives. We both were out on the hunt. In the dating game. Because we both were lonely. Each one of us needed business: To fuck, to found a family, to do couple things with. Each one of us went out for many dates, but in the end, all we got out of it were some totally pointless hookups. They cured horny for some time, but that was all.
Due the fact that my daughter and I were single and living in the same place, we began to hang out with each other. Watching some movie, gonna the fitness studio together – yes, she blackmailed me into exercising again: Either you take over more of the household chores or you go and get some workouts. I chose the last one. I hate household chores.
All in all, my daughter and I got closer. No, nothing sexual was happening back then. We sometimes accidentally ran into each other naked in the bathroom, but stuff like that just happens when you life under one roof with someone.
About six months passed by. My daughter and I got along better and better with every week. Living together with her worked out better than it ever did with my wife. We split chores – I had to take care of some household stuff too, but she let me pick the chores I was okay with: I was the grocery shopper, the repair man and the laundry guy – and it worked. Without any bigger problems. We talked about it, and we both were surprised about it. Needless to say, we both liked it that way.
On the dating front, nothing changed. Each of us had some occasional hook ups, but that was all. We talked about our failures, our tiny victories. And one day, my daughter dropped a bomb. A bomb that occupied my mind for a long long time: “If other men just were like you, dad.”
I had to swallow. I asked her if I heard right. She confirmed it. Then I asked her again. She confirmed it for a second time. I was thinking okay, is my own gorgeous daughter into me? Is that even feasible? Can daughters think about their fathers in that way?
After our conversation in the kitchen – yes, the one where she stated that man should be like her father – things changed at home. My daughter began to drop stuff. She bent over a lot to pick it back up again. Mostly wearing some short skirt and no underwear. I at all times tried to be polite, to look away. But I got weak. I got curious. I began to look at her pussy when she showed her to me. My conscience went nuts, but horny me, horny me loved what she was doing. I began to pop hard wood when she was exposing herself.
But my daughter showing off, her dressing more slutty at home, wasn’t the only thing that changed. When we were watching a movie together, she came closer and closer to me with every movie night. Until our bodies were touching. She even rested her head on my shoulder. I liked that. I loved her being that close to me.
It took me some time, a few weeks at least, until I figured out, until I accepted what she was up to: She wanted to seduce her own father. But I wasn’t ready for that back then. I wondered that I would never be ready for that. Because, fathers and that daughters are not doing that sort of stuff with each other.
She, my daughter clearly was okay with a daughter and her father being a loving couple. And not just that, she wanted us to be loving parents too. So she kept on seducing me. She kept up setting up things for me to run into her: She stopped closing the bathroom door while she took a shower. She rarely ever closed the door to her room when she got undressed or went to bed. She got touchier, she hugged me at every opportunity. She even began to kiss me on my cheeks. Her doing, it changed me over time. I got more and more attracted to her.
It went on that way for about three months. My daughter and I stopped dating other people in that time period. We spend most of our free time with each other. We got closer. We got a couple. I began dating my daughter, she began dating her father. I began to tease her too. I stopped hiding the bulges she gave me. I began to kiss her, to hug her. She later told me that it made her feel warm and tingly inside at all times. And it made her pussy wet too. It just was a mater of time until the two of us would land in bed. Until we would fuck each others brains out. Until we would do the unspeakable. Until a father fucks his daughter. Until a father breeds his daughter.
And it happened soon after. It happened without a big bang. Without any bigger romantic create up. One night, about nine months ago, my daughter came into my room. Dressed in her finest lingerie. Nervous and excited. She asked me one thing: “Can I sleep with you, in your bed, dad?”
My dick got hard within a few seconds. Impressive, for a 56 year old man. But her being in the room, wearing nothing but her finest lingerie, it made me nervous too. It took me some time to answer her question: “Yes, sure, just jump in.”
There she was. My own daughter. In her fathers bed. Cuddling next to him. Beneath one big blanket. With her wearing nothing but her finest lingerie. With me wearing nothing but my boxers. Our nearly naked bodies were touching. Her head was resting on my chest. My rock hard dick was pointing towards the ceiling.
A few minutes later kissing set in. Passionate kissing. One blanket flew through the air, landed on the floor next to the bed. My daughter climbed onto me. Our bodies touching. My hands on her damn hot 33 year old ass. Tension create up. Fuck, she was so fucking hot. She was – and is – perfect. A hotter, younger and better version of her mother, my ex wife.
We kept on kissing. Then I undressed her: Stripped off her bra and her panties. Exposed her beautiful tits. I sucked on her hard nipples. I squeezed her boobs. Gentle. She loved it. Then she got rid of my boxers. Exposed my rock hard dick. Jerked him off. While kissing me. Some moans escaped my throat. My dick was throbbing. More than just ready to fuck. Ready to fuck my own daughter.
But she wasn’t ready to fuck. She placed her pussy on my face first: “Eat me out, dad. Taste my sweet pussy.”
I tasted her pussy for the first time. I was addicted. I buried my tongue as deep inside her as feasible while she was fucking my face. She was more than just wet. Her juices were running down my cheeks. Fuck, yes. I jerked off my rock hard dick while she was ridding my face.
When she had enough – yes, she normally is the one in control in bed, and in the house too – after she had her first orgasm, she moved backwards, placed herself above my cock and let him slid inside her pussy. I had to let out a loud moan. So did she. My daughter riding, or better said using my rock hard dick as her living dildo felt nothing but awesome. She clearly had only one goal in mind: Bringing herself to an orgasm.
She rode me the way she loved it. Nothing but a turn on for me. Her moaning got more intense. My balls began to ache. I was getting closer. She went faster. Harder. She took me balls deep. Then she came. Her legs were shaking. She screamed out: “Yes, daddy. Breed your fucking daughter. Breed me.”
Listening to her moaning gave me the rest: I came too. My swollen balls emptied themselves into my daughters pussy. I came hard. A great orgasm. I dumped a gigantic and nasty load between her legs. Me doing so put a gigantic fucking smile on her face. She bowed down, with my half hard dick still in her pussy: “Yes, dad. Empty your loads into my unprotected pussy. Make me, your daughter, a proud mom.”
Fuck. What had I done? dad’s don’t breed their daughters. Fucking horny me. But it felt so good. It was such a great fuck. And I bet she was lying. She was on birth control, for sure. Well, I was wrong. Terrible wrong. We had a talk the day after. She confirmed that she wasn’t planing to use any ways of birth control for the rest of her life. She wanted to get a mommy. I, I had to think about it for some time. For about 5 minutes. Then I hugged her, told her that I wanted to have kids with her too. She was smiling. I was smiling.
Then I bent her over the kitchen table. I pulled down her pants and panties. I fingered her greedy, already wet pussy for some time. She began to moan. Then I rammed my rock hard dick as deep inside her unprotected pussy as feasible. All I was whispering in her ear was: “Daddy is breeding you now.”
I could feel how her body trembled from excitement. She clearly was into it to: “Yes daddy, breed your own daughter. Make her happy, make her a mom.”
Her pussy wrapped herself around my dick, perfect. I fucked her hard. Fast, and deep. I used her, I used her fuck hole to relieve my urges. And my urges only. She loved it. She loves to be in command, she loves to be dominated from time to time. I love her for being like that.
But back to the action. My dick was sliding in and out of her pussy. Her moaning, her screaming got more intense with every thrust. My balls began to ache. My dick was ready to explode. Then, one more thrust, and boom, an orgasm went off in my head. My daughter came with me. My balls unloaded their breeding load. We hugged, we kissed for some time after we both were done. We were looking forward to raising our offspring together.
After it was clear that we wanted to produces some offspring, after our first two fucks, the ice was broken. We began to fuck like some rabbits. Everywhere, all over the house: In the living room, in the kitchen, in the bathroom, in her old bedroom – yes she was sleeping with her dad from that day on, but we had to keep her room up and running, in case some visitors came over – literally everywhere.
But when we were out of the safety of our house, we had to be careful. We had to keep our distance. No kissing at a romantic place, no quick fuck in the restaurant bathroom while having a romantic dinner, nothing. And to be honest, that sucked ass big time. We wanted to act like the loving couple we were at all times and everywhere, not just behind some save walls at home. And it was not only about the two of us: We wanted our future kids – yes, plural, we want to get more than just one – to grow up in an as normal, as typical way as anyhow feasible.
We sat together for a long time. We did a lot of brainstorming. In the end, there was one conclusion: We had to move out of town. We had to leave our great hometown. The town we both grew up in, the town where all our friends were living. It was the only way to live an normal life, as a couple. As wife and husband.
So I put the house on the market for sale. The people that were asking why I did that got the following answer: I tried really hard to live in that place. But memories from my past, from my failed marriage were everywhere. So I decided to move elsewhere. For a fresh new beginning. My friends, my relatives, they all accepted that answer and wished me all the best.
What they didn’t knew was that my daughter was moving with me. She told people that she had a job offering in a town far away. A well payed one. And that there was nothing left here in her hometown that gave her a reason to stay. And that bad memories of the past were hunting her too. Again, people accepted her saying.
In our new hometown, my daughter and I weren’t father and daughter anymore. We were a married couple. I gave her my ex wife’s wedding ring – no she didn’t got to keep it after our divorce, the ring was running in my family for generations – and I might have found someone that fixed the paper work for us. We now where officially married. We fucking loved it. We were finally free.
Now, about two years after my divorce, two years after my life got smashed into pieces, everything is fine, we – my 34 year old daughter, sorry wife and 60 year old me – are looking forward to the day that our first kid gets born. Yes, I knocked her up a few months ago. A dad successfully planted his seed into his daughters belly. The doctors say that the kid will be perfectly fine. No genetic errors, no sickness, nothing was found. We visited the best specialists on that field that money can buy.
And yes, pregnant sex is awesome. My wife is constantly horny. Her hormones are going wild. We fuck all day long. And, wait, her car is coming up the driveway to our new home. My new wife, my daughter, she is back from a shopping trip. She was out buying some clothes for her and the baby. Now she is back. And she for sure will cure my hard one. The hard one I got while writing those lines. All the best to you, I have to leave. I have to fuck.
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