Stephen A. Jones

Sex With Daddy

Chapter 1

The first time I fucked my own father, it changed my whole life. I'd never had a cock in me before and then, when I finally learned all the wild, animal joys of completely abandoned sex, all the wonderful ways a male and a female can join their bodies to bring impossible thrills I'd never thought existed, I got so sex hungry I couldn't quit. I did it with my own father, and became a sex pervert; but I was hooked – I liked it and I couldn't stop. I had to have more and more of Daddy's cock in me all the time.

But it began long before that first fuck; it began right after my mother's death. Daddy had to sell the house because of medical bills, and we were forced to move to an apartment. Before that, I had been just another little girl – innocent and pure – but living in the apartment changed everything. I knew almost the moment we both walked in that there was a feeling of lust in the very air of the place. I knew I had to have sex – pure, raw animal sex – and I wanted it with my own daddy.

That move to the apartment was the beginning of our strange life together. We began a subtly different relationship right from the first day there.

There we were, a ten-year-old girl and her father, surrounded by all the impossible junk of twelve years' collection. Because we couldn't do anything else, we both sat on the floor and laughed out loud. We both seemed to feel the urge to laugh at exactly the same instant and, we kept it up for the longest time. The whole situation was absolutely hilarious and we couldn't help ourselves.

Finally, Daddy took a great big breath and still smiling, said, "Well, sweetheart, which would you rather do, sit here and stare at this mess, or go out on your first date? How's dinner and a movie sound?"

Of course, there was no choice. The dinner and movie were much more exciting than any sort of hard work. Although I was anxious to find my room and to put my things away, I knew that all that could wait until the next day. We had moved in on a Friday purposely, so that we could have two full days to put everything in place, and I certainly didn't want to exhaust myself doing it the first night.

Right from the moment I accepted my first "date," Daddy seemed to change from a tired man into a really romantic figure. He started to plan the evening, asking me what I would like, and as I placed a few things around the apartment, he went out to get a newspaper to find out what movies were playing and what restaurants were serving what.

We planned the whole thing together and he even helped me select a dress to wear. Then he told me that the following day he would let me try my hand at decorating the whole apartment.

There never had been any stigma to nudity in our family. We weren't nudists and we hadn't made a point of parading around the house without clothing on, but neither had we run around like prigs and prudes locking doors while we were dressing or doing other such Victorian things to call attention to nudity. I had often seen my mother dressing and Daddy coming out of the shower. I, in turn, had no idea of false or ridiculous modesty. I was taught to be decently dressed in the living room and at meals, regardless of the time of day. But I also knew that there was no shame in nakedness.