Summary: Daughter seduces recently widowed dad during Christmas break.

Note: This is dedicated to Anton Anon who requested the story.

Note 2: This is a Christmas 2018 Contest Story so please vote.

Note 3: Thanks to Tex Beethoven, Robert and Wayne for editing this story.

Replacing Mom

My parents were always touchy feely.

The held hands in public.

They kissed often in front of me, their only child.

They told each other how much they loved each other every day, often while I was listening. Unlike many kids, I never got tired of hearing it. Especially because they always made a point of making sure I knew how much I was loved as well. If you're someone who dislikes lovey dovey stuff, we would have made you sick, but we loved it.

That didn't mean I wasn't ever disciplined, but even that was never done with anger. Mom or Dad would explain my infraction to me, possibly in a loud scary voice, tell me why it was wrong, never for moralistic reasons but because of the probable negative consequences of my actions, followed by whatever my 'sentence' was... usually the loss of something I really liked to do for an uncomfortable period of time.

They were a great couple who clearly still loved each other and were inspirational in a world where over half the marriages end in divorce.

I also discovered, the summer before I started college, that my parents had wild sex. This began when I came home early from my lifeguard shift at the pool and heard them in the throes of passion. Although perhaps passion was an overly polite word to describe it.

As I was about to walk past their bedroom, I heard words coming out of my sweet, demure mother that I couldn't imagine ever hearing, "Oh yes baby, fuck me with that big, fat cock."

I froze.

"That's right, beg for it, slut," Dad ordered, in the same authoritative voice he used when disciplining me.

Dad just called Mom a slut? What the hell?

"Please, baby, slam that big, jackrabbit-fast cock in my sopping wet cunt," Mom responded, sounding desperate as she used two words I had never heard from her lips before.

"You can do better than that," Dad snarled at her.

"Pound your submissive slut and treat her like the three-hole fuck slut she is," Mom responded, sounding even sluttier and more desperate.

Three-hole fuck slut? Mom takes it in the ass? The shocking questions swirled around within me.

"That's better, you fucking whore," Dad approved, as he began fucking her so hard I could hear his body slapping into hers right through the closed door.

"Oh fuck, oh yes, mother fucker," Mom babbled, her orgasm obviously imminent.

"Come now, you cock craving bitch," Dad demanded, every word out of his mouth another shock to hear.

"Oh yes, drill my cunt baby, I'm so fucking close," Mom responded, and then she screamed, loud enough to wake up the dead, "YEEEESSSS!!!"

I didn't hear anything for a minute, and was about to back away from the door, when Dad ordered, "Knees, slut."

"Are you going to shoot your load all over your slut's face?" Mom asked, sounding like a porn star. I had never let a guy come on my face as it seemed disgusting, although if a guy ordered me to I likely would let him. I had discovered pretty early in my sex life I was rather submissive, and I was discovering today it must be a hereditary trait from my mother.

"You love facials, don't you, you cum slut?" Dad asked.

"You know I do," Mom purred, as I imagined her opening her mouth for my Dad's cock.

Shit, what's wrong with me?



Shit, why is my hand in my panties?



Shit, why am I so soaking wet?

"Beg for my cum," Dad demanded, sounding like he was close too.

"Yes, shoot that big load of cum all over your cum slut wife's face and then face fuck your dirty whore before your sexy daughter gets home."

I was shocked to hear my mom call me sexy as well as my father's response. "Well, you do look like her in that high school uniform."

She was wearing one of my private school outfits? The stereotypical white blouse and plaid skirt? Curious, I couldn't resist, I cracked open the door and peeked into the room to see my mother on her knees, indeed in my school uniform, with matching white nylons, with my naked Dad stroking his cock in front of her. Shit, what a big cock! Although he had a slender, rather athletic build, at well over six feet he towered over my slender brunette mother, who was no taller than I was. But again shit, what a big cock!

"Do the thigh high stockings help?" Mom asked sounding flirtatiously dirty.

"You know a good slut always wears stockings," Dad responded, tapping her lips with his cock.

"That's why I wear them every..." Mom began but was silenced by Dad's dick.

I watched in shock, like when you drive by a car accident and not only have to look, but you then can't break your eyes away from what you're seeing.

I was transfixed as Dad face fucked Mom, his entre cock disappearing in Mom's mouth. And have I mentioned how large that sucker was? Half of it must have been going down her throat!

I had only sucked a couple of guys and I'm pretty sure I didn't get even half their cocks in my mouth, and theirs had been much smaller than the one Mom was swallowing whole. What Mom was doing was porn star impressive and incredibly hot to watch.

When Dad pulled out, I got another great look at his massive dick, before I backed away, worried I was going to get caught.

"Want a nylon foot job instead?" Mom asked.

"Next time," Dad answered, as I tried to imagine the flexibility it would take her to give him a foot job. He then continued, "This time I'm going to use these pigtails as handlebars and face fuck that dirty mouth of yours."

"Mmmmmm," was all I heard from Mom before I assumed her mouth was filled with cock again.

I couldn't help it, I peeked in one more time to see my Dad holding her dark brown pigtails in each hand and furiously fucking my Mom's mouth balls deep. I couldn't help but wonder what that would feel like: just to be used for a man's pleasure.

Dad began turning my way and I quickly backed away and listened, although all I could hear was the sloppy sounds coming from Mom's mouth as I leaned against the wall and gave myself over to the pleasure I was feeling as I rubbed my pussy.

A minute or two later my Dad grunted and said, "Here it comes, slut."

I was tempted to peek again but was terrified about getting caught, so I just listened as Mom begged, "Yes baby, come all over your slut's face."

Truth be told I had never been face fucked, never taken a facial, but as I listened to my parents do it... I really wanted to be Mom.

I don't mean with Dad, but with someone who could be dominant like Dad was being for Mom.

My orgasm was close as I heard Dad finally say, "You do look hot with cum all over your face."

"I bet I also look hot with your cock slamming into my cunt," Mom replied wickedly.

"Or with my cock lodged up your tight ass," Dad added, confirming the earlier three-hole reference. My loving mother took it in the ass. Life suddenly made no sense to me.

Just when I thought there couldn't be any more surprises, Mom asked, as she upped the revelation ante, "How about when I have my head buried in a ripe fresh teen twat?"

What????????



No way!!!!!!!

I had to be being punked.

Not only was she implying she was bi and ate pussy, she was implying she had sex with teenagers.

I was a teenager.

"Yeah, tough to top you with your head buried in some teen slut's legs as I pound your ass," Dad agreed, he then added, "Especially Jayda."

"She does have a delicious cunt," Mom added.

"And really knows how to wield a strap-on," he added.

Who's Jayda? Why am I suddenly jealous of her? What's wrong with me?

"You know I still am okay if you want to fuck her?" Mom offered, something she had obviously offered before. "A cream pie from her would be yummy."

"I only have cock for you," Dad responded, sounding oddly sweet considering the conversation, as he parodied a James Bond title... the series he loved more than any other.

"But eyes for everyone," Mom joked.

"Especially in nylons," Dad added. "Plus, looking and watching isn't cheating."

"You're an enigma, honey," Mom said, as I thought, You two are both enigmas.

After a moment, Mom said, "Lesley should be home soon. I should clean up and start dinner."

"But keep that cum on your face," Dad ordered.

"You're so bad," Mom giggled, sounding like a schoolgirl, as I pulled my hand out of my wet panties and my feverish cunt and scurried silently out of the house. Accelerating very gradually so as not to be heard inside my house I nevertheless drove away as quickly as I could and parked a few blocks away.

Sitting in my car, I tried to process what I had heard and witnessed.

1. Dad had just called my Mom a slut over and over.

2. Mom took facials.

3. Mom took it in the ass.

4. Mom had sex with another girl... a teenage girl.

5. Mom was submissive.

6. I was horny as fuck.

Although I was pretty structured, and I'd focused on my grades and scholarships in my senior year rather than partying, I had a pretty high sex drive.

In my senior year I'd gotten a serious boyfriend and lost my virginity, three days after turning eighteen... a late bloomer I suppose... and I'd recently had a quick summer affair with a fellow lifeguard that flamed out as quickly as it sparked.

I didn't mind giving head, and I loved getting fucked... although I was beginning to think something was wrong with me as I never came from shared sex.

Sex felt great... and I always felt an orgasm building while I was being fucked... in a dozen different positions... yet I never came. Thus frustrated, I would eventually fake an orgasm so the guy could think he'd done his job; they were both really sweet and they'd tried, but then I would have to go to the bathroom and frig myself to a rather anti-climactic climax.

I read books, I googled online articles and eventually came to accept I was just one of those girls who didn't come from sex, learning this was less uncommon than I'd thought. Also, I read that the right man, or woman, could possibly break through the invisible dam preventing a girl's tidal wave. I also learned sometimes it was a mental issue. I wondered if maybe I would come from oral sex, as it seemed quite a few women only came that way, but that hadn't occurred yet either. Perhaps someone more experienced could change that for me.

So at eighteen, I had only come from penetration with the assistance of a hairbrush, and then later my first vibrator that I'd bought through Wish of all places.

Still horny, I drove a couple more blocks to an alley, parked, and furiously frigged myself to a very quick, powerful orgasm, as I replayed the recent surreal, sexual submission. Yes, that's right, I came like crazy thinking of my Dad fucking my Mom, then calling her names as he gushed his cum all over her face while I wished I were her.

Once I recovered from my stronger than usual orgasm, I returned home and Mom was in the kitchen, in a normal blouse and skirt and white nylons. Interestingly, her dark hair was still in pigtails.

I greeted, "Hi, Mom."

"Hi, honey," she smiled, looking at me as I investigated her face for cum evidence.

I said, "Pigtails are a youthful look."

For a moment Mom looked mortified. She had obviously forgotten to take them out, or she'd been told not to by Dad. She recovered quickly as she shrugged, "Just trying to regain my youth."

Although I couldn't see any cum on her face from where I was, as I got closer I saw a wad that was obviously cum in her hair. I said, enjoying the conversation where I knew the truth and Mom had to lie to me, "You have something white-ish in your hair."

Again her eyes went wide. She said, after a moment's thought, "I must have gotten some facial cream in my hair."

"Hey," I suggested, loving the double entendre that she couldn't guess I actually meant, "we should get a facial together."

"Y-y-yes, that's a great idea," Mom stammered, obviously thinking of the very thing I was suggesting, based on what was actually in her hair and on her face.

"It looks like you just got one," I added, enjoying making my mom squirm. After a pause to let my ominous words sink in, I added, "I mean you're really glowing at the moment."

"Yes, I did," she admitted.

"Where did you go?" I asked. "I could use one too."

"Um... I..." she struggled, "Dina's."

"Who did you have?" I asked, forcing her to lie more and more.

"Angela," she said. I wondered if she actually had gone to Dina's, it was the most expensive salon plus in the city. And was Angela a real person?

"I'll see if I can get in," I said, ending my session of making my mom squirm.

As it turned out, Angela was real and I spent the rest of the summer sneaking into the house so I could listen to my parents fucking and pleasure myself while imagining having a man fucking me that forcefully.

Unfortunately in early November while I was away at college Mom, who hadn't been feeling well for weeks, went to the hospital and discovered the worst possible news: cancer. Worse yet, it had spread through almost her entire body. We learned she had days to live, not even weeks, and I flew home so we could spend every second together bouncing back and forth between joyous laughter as we reminisced about her life, and gritting our teeth at the harsh reality that she would be gone at any moment.

Every morning I hurried into her room to make sure she was alive, until one day when she wasn't.

My heart broke.

And her last words to me lingered as she had whispered them to me before drifting into sleep the night before she passed, maybe she knew it was her last night, and she was apparently drifting off to heaven. The words were simple: Take care of Daddy, Lesley. You're the woman of the house now Lesley, I need you to take care of Daddy and all his needs!!!



My last words to my mother were a promise: I will, Mom.

It was a promise I hadn't kept as Dad refused to let me stay home when I had finals in a month. I reluctantly returned for only a day and a night to attend the funeral.

Not surprisingly, my Dad was completely shattered. Mom and Dad had shared a love you almost never saw in real life. They did everything together before the cancer: ballroom dancing, book club, adult league bowling and so forth.

And now he was alone.

And I was two and a half thousand miles away.

Back at college, I tried to get back into a routine. In my classes or when studying I mostly could, but when I was alone in my dorm room I was a mess.

Every night, I couldn't help but replay Mom's words over and over: Take care of Daddy, Lesley. You're the woman of the house now Lesley. I need you to take care of Daddy and all his needs!!!

At first, I took those words like any normal daughter would: it simply meant to look after him after the tragedy of losing his soulmate, and to give him the love and support he needed, to help him understand he needed to move on.

Yet as the weeks passed, I began to think of a different, much more twisted possibility of what those words could mean.

What if she meant I was to replace her?



What if she meant I was supposed to be Daddy's new slut?



What if I was supposed to be the three-hole submissive in her place?

When I was horny, these were my thoughts as the brief sight of his big, fat cock was forever etched in my memory.

I imagined sucking his cock.

I imagined getting fucked by his cock.

I imagined getting a facial from his cock.

I imagined being called nasty names while he used his cock on me and in me.

I even imagined giving my anal virginity to his cock.

I came hard every time, imagining serving as a submissive slut for my father and his big, fat cock.

Yet, once the orgasm had subsided, guilt washed over me.

What I was fantasizing about was sick... twisted... immoral... Illegal.

I tried to date again and more importantly to find my own dominant man... someone who understood the submissive needs of a woman like me. A man who could put me in my place and maybe even make me come. Yet none of them caught on and most of them seemed only to want to get off and be gone (five guys in five weeks... which at still only eighteen made my lifetime total seven, which was kind of slutty, I agree).

It was frustrating as fuck as although I looked sweet and innocent on the outside and was treated as such, ironically even while I was being fucked, inside I was dying to be a submissive slut.

My incest fantasy would not go away, so in December I began to research the subject. I was very surprised to discover it wasn't as taboo (okay it still was very taboo but it wasn't quite as unheard of) as I'd first imagined.

It was only a small percentage but nevertheless a pretty large number of people who admitted to having incestuous relationships with a family member, with moms and daughters being the most common, siblings next... that said, although there was tons of research on the fact that many daughters try to find a man like their father to marry, there was a lot less true life information about father-daughter incest. Of course, there was lots of scary stuff about how harmful it was when parents or other adults were molesting young children, but between consenting adults, not so much.

Thus I began reading erotica. At first I found stories about women being submissive to men and even sometimes submissive women to other women (I wasn't really into being with another girl, but if the right opportunity came with a dominant seductress, who knows). But then I discovered one of the secrets of the internet... there are millions of incest stories out there. Again, like the research, most are mom and son, others are sibling based and some are mom and daughter (a whole niche of step-mom porn on Girlsway which was clearly a way not to break the law while really saying that wasn't actually her step-mom), but there were also some... although much fewer... daughter and daddy stories.

I, of course, gravitated to these as I replayed my father's firm, dominant voice.

I replayed the nasty encounters I had overheard.

I imagined, as I read every daddy-daughter story I could find, becoming a slut for my own Daddy.

So, back to mom's last request: Take care of Daddy, Lesley. You're the woman of the house now Lesley. I need you to take care of Daddy.



If I took it the not so normal way, she could have meant I was to replace her in the bedroom... to become his daughter slut. And as fucked up as that idea was... it was the constant fantasy I masturbated to, the constant fantasy that even seeped into my dreams more and more as my Christmas flight home got closer and closer.

So did I plan to seduce my father? Not completely.

Did I return home with thoughts of an incestuous relationship with my father as a possibility? I'd be lying if I said no.

Did I plan at least allow to the idea to seep into my father's subconscious by what I wore and what I said? You betcha!

Anyway, like I said, I didn't exactly come home to seduce my father, but I sure wasn't against it.

What I did plan to do for certain was tempt him and see if he took the bait.

Which, I guess, is admitting I really did plan to seduce him... semantics.

Which brings me, finally, to the Christmas that changed everything.

.....

So what was I wearing when he arrived at the airport to pick me up? A sundress and pantyhose... even though it was impractical for a long flight and even more impractical for leaving winter in Boston, although it was slightly more practical for arriving in Los Angeles. I was a bit cold the entire time (except down below where a fire was smouldering).
And since I'd long ago noticed all Mom's shoes were open-toed, I too had four inch open-toed heels for me to tease my dad with my ruby red toenails, recalling also my Mom had always had her toenails painted.

I walked up to him and stretched on my tiptoes to give him a big hug. He pulled me in for the warm fatherly embrace as he said, "I missed you so much, Lesley."

"I missed you too, Dad," I said.

He said, as he backed up, "Let me take a look at you."

I posed, not slutty, but to show off my nylon-clad legs and red toenails, "Ta-da."

"You've grown up a lot," he said, looking me over.

"It has been a few months," I pointed out.

"It seemed a lot longer," he said, as he continued to look at me with amazement.

"I know," I agreed, "I should have stayed home."

"No," he said, shaking his head, even as he furtively glanced down at my feet, "You need to move forward."

"What about you?" I asked, deciding to see if my nylon-clad feet would tempt him, as I slipped out of my left heel and wiggled my toes.

He couldn't resist, he looked down and watched me wiggle my toes. After a longer than usual pause, he said, looking back up at me, "Who says I haven't?"

"Everyone," I joked. I then asked, as he kept looking down at my legs and feet, "What?"

"It's just..." he paused, as he looked at me with such love in his eyes, "...you look so much like your mother."

"I do?" I asked.

"Especially when she was your age," he nodded. "The short, slender figure, the warm brown eyes, the lovely face, the long brown hair... you're as beautiful as she was."

"So Mom was hot when she was younger?" I joked.

Dad laughed, as he took my hand and led me to the baggage area, "Yes, she was the hottest women I ever met."

"So now you're saying you think I'm hot?" I asked with a sly smile.

"Um... I... that is..." he began to babble.

"I'm just teasing, Dad," I laughed, feeling guilty for putting him in such an awkward situation and yet flattered that the unspoken answer to my question was yes.

"I can safely say that you are very beautiful," he said, stopping to look at me.

"Thank you, Daddy," I said demurely, knowing all the internet porn that was dad and daughter almost inevitably had the daughter calling her dad 'Daddy'.

"And never forget it," he added.

"I just need to find a man who thinks like you do," I said, trying to plant seeds for the seduction I wasn't really doing.

"Oh, you will when the time comes," he promised.

"You were already married by my age," I pointed out.

"Love finds you when you least expect it," he reminded me. Mom and Dad having met rather serendipitously at a roller-skating rink of all places.

"So you and Mom have told me," I said, that being one of the phrases I had heard the most while I was growing up.

"And have I ever lied to you?" he asked.

"Well," I teased, thinking of his dominant behaviour with Mom.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," I shrugged, deciding that telling him he was lying by omission by hiding the fact he dominated mom sexually would be a little too much, too soon.

"Your mother did that too," he sighed.

"What?" I asked.

"Drove me nuts," he said.

"Well, that is the purpose of the ladies in your life," I said, "to keep you off balance."

"Well you both do a great job of that," he said, talking as if Mom was still alive. He paused, "I mean she did."

"I know," I said, softly... the hurt of Mom's passing still predominant in my Dad's thoughts. I wondered... could I make that sadness go away? Could I truly replace Mom? I mean let's make this clear, no one could ever replace Mom... I meant could I be the next best thing?

There was a moment of silence as we both thought about Mom for a moment.

"I really miss her," I finally said, feeling tears in my eyes.

"I do too," he said. "Every day," his eyes glistening.

An hour later we were home and I was exhausted. I took off my heels and walked around in my nylons as I got something to eat and then sat down on the sofa and watched the sports highlights next to my Dad.

No doubt about it... he had a foot fetish. He was never super obvious about it, but that's when it's super obvious.

I didn't let on, but having him check me out really turned me on.

I mean I looked like Mom... I was dressed like Mom... I even had what a guy might call small but grabbable tits like Mom... could I become Mom?

As I pondered this Dad said, "Oh, I need to give you this."

"What?" I asked.

"It's a letter," he said, as he grabbed it from a table and then added, "from your mother."

"Oh," I said, surprised and also both excited and sad.

He handed me a sealed envelope and said, "The instructions were to give it to you and also to let you read it while you're alone. I don't like the second part, but I want to respect her wishes."

"Oh," was still all I could muster as I looked at the envelope, still sealed, in awe that Mom had written me a letter before she passed.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asked.

"No," I replied, again close to tears. "Or rather you may if you like, but I'll go read it in my room."

"You sure?" he asked, looking concerned.

"Yes," I nodded. "I think she must have wanted me to."

"Okay," he said. "I'll be in our... I mean in my room getting ready for bed if you need me," almost sobbing himself, "I'm sorry, I'm still not used to calling it that."

"I understand, Daddy," I nodded, as I stood up and noticed him looking down at my feet.

"I love you, honey," he said, looking so sad.

"I love you too, Daddy," I said, moving to him and pulling him into a close hug.

"I miss her so much," he choked out through his sobs, finally breaking down in my arms.

"I do too," I said, tears streaming down my face.

"I just... I um..." he struggled to say.

"I know," I said, not knowing what he was going to say, but sensing the simple phrase was what was needed.

"Go," he said. "You don't need to see your dad crying."

"But I do: I've never loved you more," I refuted through my broken heart.

"You are perfect, Lesley," she said.

"I know," I joked, trying to break the room out of its sadness.

He chuckled/sobbed, "Like mother, like daughter."

"I want to be just like her," I said, giving just the slightest hint of my wicked, naughty idea to be Daddy's fuck slut. God, I was so bad. Who thinks of sex during such a somber moment?

"Good night, honey," he said.

"Good night, Daddy," I said, leaning in and kissing his cheek.

A minute later I was upstairs in my room looking at the envelope.

Five minutes later I was still looking at the envelope.

I could only open this once.

I could only share this special moment with my mother once.

I wanted to treasure it.

I was dying to read what was inside, yet I was totally reluctant to read it and have this moment end.

I took a deep breath, tears already streaming down my face as I finally opened the envelope.

I unfolded it and a necklace fell out. It was the necklace she had worn her whole life. I put it on.

I took another deep breath, a chill going through me, before I began to read my mother's final words to me.

Dearest Lesley,



If you're reading this I have passed away.



First I want to say how much I loved you and will still love you from above.



You have a heart of gold.



You are beautiful, even though you don't believe you are.



You are brilliant, which you do already know.



You are a younger, better version of me in so many ways.



I'm not worried about you at all. You were my greatest creation and I know you will achieve great things.



Your dad, on the other hand, is going to be lost without me, as I would have been if he had passed first.



He is going to need you to help him move on.



Now, you can do this as a loving daughter and help him rediscover who he is and let him know he can find love again. I'll always be his first love, that can never be taken away from him or from me. But I don't have to be his last.



You should probably quit reading now, as what I will suggest next is unorthodox and likely horribly shocking. So if you don't flip the page over and read my final request, I understand. It may make you change forever how you remember me, and that I would hate.



Yet, I believe you will understand my request once you read it, as you and I are so very much alike. Not only in looks, brains and personality, but in other ways probably best left unmentioned.



So stop now if you don't want the image of your mother to be tarnished.



Or, if you already understand what I am saying without the words being said, please flip the page over and read on.



Either way, I love you and respect you.



LOVE MOM



I reread the first page a dozen times, perhaps more.

I knew that I did understand the words she wasn't saying.

She was implying we were also similar sexually.

At least I assumed that was her unspoken message.

Somehow, I felt she was telling me to replace her.

Somehow, I felt she was giving me permission, no, she was requesting that I replace her.

I knew I had to flip the page over. Even if I was wrong, whatever else she might say couldn't be as shocking as what I was already thinking.

I took another deep breath.

Then another.

I paused.

Part of me didn't want to turn the page over. The words may be what I expected, but they could also be something else, something that would taint my perfect memory of my mother.

Finally, I turned the page over and read.



First, I have a secret to tell you, although not the one you may be thinking.



I know you watched your Daddy and me fuck.



My mouth dropped open. Both at her blunt accusation and the word she used.

I kept reading, curious how she had known.

You do recall there is a security camera in the hallway?

Oh! Duh! I knew that!



Oh my God!



Oh my God!



Oh my God!

So for the rest of the summer I made sure we really upped the ante. Thanks for that! It was an amazing last summer with your father even if I didn't know it at the time. I checked those security cameras regularly and loved that you crept into the house to listen to us and get yourself off.



Now you may think I'm some slut for allowing your father to treat me with such disrespect. But I don't think you do. If you do, I'm sorry, but I sense you understand exactly what you heard and saw. I sense you and I are kindred spirits. Both of us are strong, compassionate, and passionate women, yet behind our feminist exterior, behind our strong moral code, behind our determination to succeed in a man's world, is a submissive side that we hide very well from almost everyone.



I hid it my entire life, even though most of my marriage. It was only in the last few years I accepted my submissive truth and convinced your father to take control in the bedroom mind, body and soul.



Truthfully, your dad found it awkward to treat me like a slut, to take control at first, but over time he came to relish himself in that role.



Our sex life was rekindled and was never hotter than the past few years.



I sense you are struggling within that confusing stage right now.



I also believe seeing your father as a dominant over your submissive mother awoke feelings inside you or perhaps only confirmed what you were already thinking about yourself.



Lesley. It is okay to be a submissive in the bedroom (or in a taxi, on a plane, in the kitchen when your daughter is in the living room), or wherever else your man decides he wants to fuck you.



It is okay.



It is natural.



It doesn't make you weak.



Actually, giving yourself to another person is the bravest thing you can do.



Again, you may stop here if you wish.



My next words, my request, is what will likely shock you.



Or... keep reading and fulfill your last promise to me.



I was completely immersed in Mom's words. Words that gave me the comfort I had long wanted as I was confused by my submissive desires. I was once again weeping because of my Mom but now for a very different reason. She knew me! She knew the real me! She understood!

I also knew I had to keep reading.

I looked up above and said, sensing Mom was in the room watching my reaction, "Mom, I swear I will keep my promise and do whatever you want me to do."

I read her final request even though I sensed what the words would be.

Lesley,

As crazy as these words sound and they sound crazy in my head as I write them, I need you to replace me. Replace doesn't sound like the correct term as you are in many ways a better version of me, but I can't think of any other word that makes more sense.



So when I say replace, I mean it in a warm way. What I really mean is... this is hard to write... I wish I had more time to say this to you... to explain what I want... damn it... I'm just going to write it... if you think it's the senile last words of a woman at the end of her rope, I understand. Although if I'm correct about who you are, this rambling will make sense.



I need you to become your dad's lover. But when I say lover I mean his fuck slut. (She had underlined the words 'fuck slut' several times.) If I'm right, this idea will get your cunt wet (yes I said cunt just like you heard me scream it at the top of my voice last summer). Cunt is a nasty word and when I'm in the throes of passion I am a nasty slut... and now you will become a nasty slut. You will suck your Daddy's cock. You will fuck your Daddy. You will take his nasty cum down your throat and all over your pretty face. You will eventually take it in the ass and become a three-hole fuck slut for Daddy.



Say it, Lesley, say it out loud: I WANT TO BE A THREE-HOLE FUCK SLUT FOR DADDY.



Even though this had been my fantasy for months, it was an entirely different thing to see those words on paper in my mother's handwriting.

Maybe it was my submissive nature, maybe it was the need to obey my mother's dying request, or maybe it was the fact I was undeniably horny as hell (which in itself was pretty fucked up), but I declared, although not much louder than a whisper. I wasn't ready for Daddy to hear me say such a thing, at least not yet: "I want to be a three-hole fuck slut for Daddy."

Saying the words sent pleasure directly to my already fevered pussy.

I said it again.

And again.

I then continued reading, excited to learn what else Mom would say.

If you are still reading this, then go and seduce your father. You probably know his weakness is nylons, especially feet in nylons, so walk around in nylons (I hid a bunch of expensive pairs of thigh high stockings and a few stockings with a garter-belt in a box at the back of your closet... with a few sex toys for you to play with when you want to) and paint your toenails red... he loves that.



Other than that, I love you; we both know your Daddy loves you; and I hope to be watching from above as you replace Mommy.



Love, Mom.



Wow!

I read the letter a few more times savouring every word, before going into my closet and finding a box that wasn't mine. I opened it and indeed there were over a dozen pairs of packaged thigh high stockings, all from a company called Wolford (a company I would later learn makes the best hosiery in the world); two garter-belts and another six pairs of stockings that had to be held up by garters. There was also a variety of lingerie which I assumed I would fit since my mother and I were practically identical in height and weight (mom had worked out her whole life before her tragic cancer reveal).

Also, there were a bunch of toys: two vibrators (one six inches, one eight), a we-vibe (it was called that because it went inside and outside somehow), a massager, a set of three butt plugs (I only knew what they were because they were still in the box), and a double vibrator that seemed to be for double penetration. Also, there was lube galore... five bottles.

My pussy on fire, I grabbed the we-vibe (it looked cool), went to my bed, opened my iPad and read erotica. The we-vibe had me near orgasmic eruption in a couple of minutes when there was a knock at the door.

"You okay, Honey?" Dad asked.

"Great," I said, with a moan, as I pulled the we-vibe out of me and covered myself up. I hadn't locked the door.

"You sure?" he asked.

"Yes, just really tired," I said, which was true. I was wiped and hoping to drift off to sleep once the fire down below was satisfied and then exterminated.

"Okay, love you," Dad said.

'Love you too," I said, as I got up and put on a robe, calling out, "Dad, wait a minute."

I raced to the door, opened it still in my nylons, and stretched up to give Dad a hug. "I mean I really love you, Dad."

"And I really love you," Dad said back, pulling me in for a hug.

"And I am here for you now," I added.

"You were always here for me," he said, as he let go and looked down at me. I was five feet nothing, Dad was six foot three.

"No," I shook my head. "I mean I am here for you in every way possible."

"That's sweet," he said, not catching onto the innuendo. He then asked, "Was the letter what you were expecting?"

"Yes," I said, before adding, "and no."

"What did she say?" he asked, before adding, as he glanced down at my lovely feet, "you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"Just that she loves me, she is proud of me, and the important part is that I am just like her and I am supposed to take care of you," I listed. "And she gave me her favourite necklace." I was still wearing it and showed him.

"She loved you with all her heart and soul," he said, tears beginning to well in his eyes again.

"I know," I nodded.

"And she was so proud of you," he continued, looking at me with the pride a father does.

"I know."

"And I'm proud of you," he added.

"I know."

"And you are so much like her," he said.

"I didn't know how true that is, but I'm learning," I said, knowing he wouldn't catch on to what I meant.

"But you don't need to take care of me," he said. "I'm fine."

"First," I began, "Mom's last words to me, both written and spoken, were I was supposed to take care of you."
"That sounds like her," he smiled, still frequently glancing back down at my toes.

"Second," I continued, "Fine never means fine."

"That was definitely true when your mother uttered those words," he chuckled.

"Third," I finished, "you and I are all that the other has left, and I plan to keep us as close as possible."

"You really are just like your mother," he said.

"You have no idea," I said, as I gave him another hug, knowing today wasn't the day to try and fulfill the ambitious expectations of my Mom.

He hugged me back.

Then it was me sounding like the parent, "Now get some sleep. Tomorrow we have a lot of work to do."

"We do, do we?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't let yourself think I didn't notice the lights aren't up and the tree isn't up," I pointed out.

"Your Mom always did that," he said, taking another look at my nylon-clad feet.

"Tomorrow we start a new tradition," I declared.

"Whatever you say," he said, clearly happy to see me home again.

"I love you, Daddy," I said one last time.

"I love you too, Lesley," he said.

"Good night," I said, leaning in and kissing him, surprising him by doing it on the lips. It lasted less than a second, but it was the first, or perhaps second if you count the nylons I was wearing, hint of what was to come... and hopefully keep coming... and end with cum on my face or down my throat or in my cunt or up my ass or all of the above plus more.

Fuck, I was a secret slut. Inwardly I cackled nastily.

He glanced down at my feet one more time before I headed back into my room and closed the door.

I discarded my robe, scurried to my bed, put the we-vibe back in its proper place meaning my cunt, and closed my eyes. I didn't need to read anymore... I just needed to imagine my Daddy's big cock sliding in and out of me.

I came in two minutes.

I didn't even get into my pajamas.

I just pulled my blanket over me, shut the toy off and drifted to sleep. I didn't even shut my lights off.

.....

Next morning I got up, showered, shaved my puss (which I normally did, but today I did it with extra care), painted my toenails red, put on a pair of fancy Wolford nylons in red, bra and panties, a cute pencil skirt, and a Christmas sweater.

I thought for a moment, then went into the box, lubed up the smallest butt plug from the kit and inserted it in my ass, holding it in place with my panties. It didn't feel too bad, although a little awkward. I wanted to begin preparing myself. Just in case, I thought smugly.

I was in awe of the nylons.

They were pure silk.

Soft.

Sexy.

I went downstairs and Dad was in the kitchen making breakfast. "Morning, sleepyhead."

"It's only ten-thirty," I pointed out.

"Day's half done," Dad smiled, that being one of Mom's favourite lines. She was an early riser, Dad and I were not.

"Yep," I laughed, "probably should just go back to bed."

Dad moved around the island to bring me bacon and saw my attire. He was clearly surprised by the fact I was in nylons again. He said, "You're dressed up rather nice for Christmas tree decorating."

"Mom left me a box of things, including a lot of nylons," I said, which was completely true. "I figured that meant I should wear them."

"Well, you look great," he said.

"Do you like the nylons?" I asked.

"I've never seen red ones," he said, taking a long look at them.

"They're festive," I pointed out, before joking, "maybe I should have painted my toenails green."

"That would have been very festive," he laughed, as he continued gazing at my legs.

"I'm full of Christmas spirit," I said, as I snitched a piece of bacon off the plate.

"So you are," he agreed, as he went back to grab the pancakes.

Then we ate breakfast. We talked about school and how my semester had gone. Sitting down, I was very aware of my butt plug the entire time, but of course I didn't mention it.

We talked about his work and how it had kept him really busy, which was good.

We talked about New Year's Eve plans which were to go to the Allen's for their yearly New Year's Eve block bash. We had lived in this house since before I was born and every other family on the cul-de-sac had lived here for over fifteen years and this year the New Year's Eve party was going into year twenty.

Then we made a plan.

He would go outside and do the Christmas lights, I would pull out all the Christmas boxes. All ten of them.

Two hours later the lights were up outside, the house was decorated and all that was left was the tree.

So, we went and picked one up like Dad and I had done every year since I was two.

As usual, it took hours.

We needed the perfect tree.

We picked up hot chocolate on the way home, brought the tree into the house, ordered Chinese food. That last was not a tradition, usually Mom made something yummy. But neither of us was much of a cook... that was something I didn't inherit from Mom, unfortunately.

Then we decorated the tree.

I knew that Dad was checking out my legs and feet throughout the tree decorating.

He was very sly about it and I wouldn't have noticed at all if I didn't already know it was his fetish. Yet, since I did know it was all I could see.

I was feeling so comfortable with the small butt plug that at one point I went upstairs 'for a potty break' and replaced it with the medium-sized one. This one was bigger, of course, and even with lube took a little bit of pressure to get inside which caused a rather sharp pain. I sat there and allowed myself to get used to the larger plug in my ass. Once somewhat comfortable, I returned downstairs to Daddy.

Once the tree was done, I unwrapped a candy cane and collapsed on the couch (again very aware of you-know-what as it went deeper in me and I barely caught myself from letting out a yelp... a sharp pain hitting me) and sighed, "My feet are killing me." Truth was, they weren't. I mean I had been in stocking feet all day except for boots when we went tree shopping, but I wanted my Dad's attention on my feet, recalling that he had often given Mom foot massages in the past.

As I had hoped, Dad offered, "I can give you a foot massage if you want, pumpkin."

"That would be great," I said, as Dad joined me on the couch.

I spun my body around and dropped my feet directly on his crotch and he groaned.

"I'm so sorry!" I cried out, as I lifted my feet up and off his crotch.

"No worries," he said, even though I had clearly hit him in the balls. He took my feet and laid them on his lap, just below his crotch area, and began massaging my left foot.

"That feels nice," I said, which it indeed did. I had never had a foot massage before from anybody and I could see why Mom had liked them so much.

"Yes, your mother loves my expert foot massages," he said. I carefully didn't point out he had used the wrong tense; it wouldn't have been kind.

"Be careful," I said, sucking on the candy cane like it was a small cock, slyly hoping for some subliminal manipulation, "or I'll be demanding one of these every day."

"Demand away," he said. "I enjoy giving them."

"Why?" I asked.

"I know they made your mother feel good," he said.

"That's sweet," I said. "You really are a gentleman."

"That's me," he smiled. "Mr. Nice Guy."

Deciding to let it out of the bag a bit and hopefully set up my seduction plans, I said, "Well, not always."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I heard you and Mom," I revealed, still using my candy cane like a narrow little cock.

"Heard us doing what?" he asked, acting innocent even though it was obvious he knew what I meant.

"Fucking," I said bluntly.

"Lesley!" he gasped, surprised by the word I chose.

"Well, it sure didn't sound like you two were making love," I teased.

"Well, your mother was an enigma," Dad said.

"Based on what I heard, you were both enigmas," I countered.

How so?" he asked, as he massaged each individual toe, which felt very nice.

"You two were both quite out of character," I pointed out.

"We can get a little wild," he admitted and then corrected himself, still not completely used to the fact that she was gone, "we used to at least."

"A little wild?" I questioned playfully, my candy cane almost done, although he seemed much more preoccupied by my nylon feet to catch on to what my lips could possibly do on his cock, "You called Mom a slut, and a three-hole slut."

"You heard that?" he asked, suddenly looking sheepish.

"Not going to lie," I continued, just allowing this to go wherever it went, as he moved to my other foot, "it was kind of hot."

"This is a weird conversation," Dad said, as he switched feet and ever so slyly adjusted his cock as he did. I was getting him hard. Excellent.

I apologized, but not really, "I'm sorry, Dad, but without Mom around, I have no one else to talk to about it."

"About what?" he asked.

"My own submissive nature," I tossed out there.

"Oh," he said.

"I think I'm a lot like Mom," I admitted, then corrected myself, "No, I am a lot like Mom."

"So I'm learning," he said, his expression rather poker like. Other than his quick cock adjustment, he was showing no real reaction good or bad about this conversation other than a little bit of surprise.

"I mean I don't know if I would like being called a three-hole slut, or getting a load all over my face, or having my hair used as handlebars or taking it in the ass, but that's what I fantasize when I'm alone," I admitted, throwing it ALL out there.

Dad was speechless.

So I just continued. "I mean, until I heard Mom talking like a porn star and heard you dominating her and calling her nasty names, I thought I was abnormal for having such dark fantasies. I mean I'm a feminist. I believe in equality for all women, and yet my sex fantasies are all about being dominated and controlled by a man."

Dad finally spoke. "Oh honey, I know this is confusing."

"Tell me about it," I huffed. "Plus, you can't really go and tell the guy you just met or a guy you're dating that you want to be used as a slut. My reputation would be deep sixed in a heartbeat."

"I hope you don't have too many guys you just met," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"No, Daddy," I smiled like a sexy little girl, "I'm mostly a good girl."

"It's the mostly that concerns me," he said.

"So it's okay for Mom to be a submissive slut but not me?" I asked bluntly. "That's rather hypocritical."

"Yes, it is very hypocritical," he agreed. "But Mom was my wife and you are my baby girl."

"There is a difference?" I asked. "I mean you can treat Mom, who you loved with all your heart, with such disrespect, but not me?"

"My relationship with each of you is very different," he clarified, seeming slightly rattled by the conversation, although he never stopped his magical massaging touch.

"How?" I asked, even though it was obvious.

"Well, you're my daughter, and my role is to help you mature into a young woman and to guide you through the challenges of life," he said.

"So," I paused, thinking about whether to say what was in my head, then deciding why not, the conversation was leading that way, maybe today would be my Christmas miracle, "what I think is that you should help me with coming to grips with my sexual identity."

"I'll try the best I can," he said, before adding, "but I so wish your mother was here for this conversation."

"If she was, what would she say?" I asked.

"To be yourself," he said.

"That's it?" I asked. "That's rather cliché."

"Well, I imagine knowing your mother was never at a loss for words, it would have been a much longer conversation, but she would say that every woman has layers."

"Like Donkey in Shrek," I quipped, Shrek being the show we watched the most when I was a little kid. Almost daily for a year, usually more than once.

"Exactly," he laughed. "And Fiona is looking for a man who can take control."

"So Shrek is a dominant master with a big dick?" I joked, liking to shock Dad with my foul mouth, knowing my Mom had done a great job of paving the way for me.

"Never considered that," he said. "But I imagine, based just on proportion, he would have been very well-endowed.

"Like you are," I blurted out.

"Excuse me?" he asked, actually stopping massaging my toes.

"I saw you and Mom one day," I admitted.

"You did?" he asked, clearly surprised and answering a worry I'd had since the day I watched them... he hadn't seen me.

"Yeah and since we're being so frank here," I said, allowing my foot to slide ever so close to the dick under discussion, "it's the biggest cock I've ever seen."

"I can't believe we're having this conversation," he said, looking absolutely flustered.

"About sex?" I asked. "Or about your massive cock?"

"Both," he said, "And please stop using the word cock."

"Sorry, your huge pecker then," I rephrased, really enjoying making my Dad squirm, while also hoping it was setting up my final game plan as I realized there was no better time than now to begin replacing Mom, so I continued by listing, "Thick dick, fat snake, gigantic missile."

"You really are just like your mother," he laughed and shook his head.

"I'm happy to hear that," I said. "I mean I want to be just like her."

"You are, honey," he said softly.

"I mean I want to be like her in every possible way," I said with rather clear intent. I then stood up and said, "I'll be right back."

"Um, okay," he said, as I could see his bulge in his pants.

I looked right at it, didn't hide my stare at all, but didn't say a word as I left him in a bewildered state of arousal and went to my room.

I went directly to the toy box, or maybe I should call it my sex box, and pulled out the lingerie. I got undressed, taking off my bra and panties, and put on a short red nightie that matched the thigh high stockings. My back-door friend seemed willing to stay put even when I wiggled my ass around experimentally, so I left it in.

Then deciding to be witty, Christmas was still a couple days away, I grabbed the wrapping paper and gift wrapped myself the best I could.

I imagine it looked terrible, and my feet weren't wrapped at all, but I assumed he would be okay with that, and the rest of me was, including my head. I couldn't walk of course even though I'd left the door open, so I then called out, "Daddy, can you come up and help me?"

"Sure," he called back, likely not at all prepared for what he was about to walk in on.

Anticipation swarmed through me, as did a sudden case of the nerves. It's one thing to have a frank sex talk with your Dad, it's even one thing to tell him you're a submissive, it's an entirely different thing to offer to be his submissive sex slave.

I heard Dad's footsteps approaching and then his words, "Oh my."

"Come unwrap your Christmas present from Mom, Daddy." I said, so nervous I was trembling. Not because I wasn't sure I wanted this... no, I wanted this very badly. But what would his response be? I couldn't see his face for a clue.

"Honey, what are you doing?" he asked, after what seemed like an eternity.

"Giving you an early Christmas present," I answered.

"But..." he began.

"This is a present that Mom insisted I give you," I added, before he could have a chance to try and rationalize why this was fucked up or wrong. It was fucked up; it was wrong; yet I knew deep in my heart it was also completely right.

"Your mother suggested this?" he asked.

"Mom's very last words to me were, and I'm quoting word for word: Take care of Daddy, Lesley. You're the woman of the house now, Lesley. I need you to take care of Daddy and all his needs!" I recited from memory.

"That doesn't mean everything," he objected.

"Then read the letter on my bed, Daddy," I suggested, having left it there for him to read if he was skeptical. His voice indicated he was indeed skeptical, and yet he wasn't giving me an outright No.

There was a long silence which felt like an eternity and it was... I imagine this is what it feels like to be a guy when he gets on one knee, pops the question and has to wait a long time for an answer. He asks the question with relative confidence he will get the answer he is hoping for, but still the waiting is excruciating, as is the risk of a no. I had asked the question without actually asking the question, and I was now waiting in purgatory.

"This is the letter Mom left you?" Dad finally asked.

"Yes," I answered.

"You understand you don't have to fulfill this last wish."

"And what if I want to?"

"Do you?"

"Daddy," I began, giving my heart to my father with everything I had in me, "I love you completely and want nothing more than to do the best I can to replace Mom and be your everything."

"You already are my everything," he said, from his voice I could tell he was now standing right in front of me.

"Okay," I said, "let me rephrase that. I want to do everything for you and with you."

He unwrapped my head.

He had tears in his eyes.

"You look so much like your Mom."

"I know I can never truly replace Mom," I said. "She was perfect. But I want to be the next best replica."

"Honey, you are perfect," he said and leaned in and kissed me.

At first it was just a father-daughter kiss. Closed lips. Chaste.

Then it wasn't.

For a couple of minutes we kissed.

Tender.

Intimate.

Probing.

Lustful.

My pussy gushed.

My body trembled.

My head spun.

He broke the kiss and asked, "Are you absolutely sure about this?"

"I want to be your slut, Daddy," I replied, breaking the intimate tenderness with blunt honesty.

"I've got to warn you I become a different man when lust takes me over," he warned.

"Does that mean you will unwrap your present and use it for your pleasure?" I asked demurely.

"It means I will expect you to obey without hesitation," he said. "No matter what."

"Yes, Daddy," I agreed eagerly, as I felt him begin to unwrap me.

"I can't believe this was your mother's final request," he said.

"She knows it's what we both need," I said, not using the wrong tense, thinking even in the afterlife Mom was still looking after both of us.

"Your mother always knew what was best," Dad said, as the wrapping paper dropped to the floor. "Wow!" he said as he looked at me suddenly in all red. Transparent red, everything on display, no secrets. Well one secret, but he would find that very soon.

"Wow, good?" I asked.

"Wow, you really do look exactly like your mother," he said, admiring my beauty. Not like at the airport, now he was gazing through my nightie at my small, shapely tits and my hard, little brown nipples. At my carefully shaven twat and of course my nylon-clad legs and feet.

He walked around for a rear view and spied my occupant. "A butt plug?"

"It's another gift from Mom, Daddy. I'm getting ready to be your three-hole slut."

"That's very thoughtful of you my slut, but we won't be needing this tonight," he told me, removing it and setting it aside. "But I was surprised several years ago to find one very like this in your mother and she said the same thing about getting ready for me."

"Then treat me exactly like you would my Mom," I offered, as I thrilled to feel his hands on my shoulders guiding me to the carpeted floor of my bedroom.

On my knees, I reached for my Dad's belt then paused, looking up at him for permission.

He nodded silently, poker-faced.

I unbuckled it then tugged at his button, unzipped his jeans and pulled them down. I helped him get them off and tossed them aside as I stared at the massive bulge in his boxers.

I reached up and rubbed his hard cock through his boxers and said, "Oh my, these are soft."

"Your mother bought them for me," he said, with a groan.

"Are you hard because of me, Daddy?" I asked all innocently.
"Yes, you got Daddy rock hard," he groaned.

"Mmmmmmm," I purred, "so big, Daddy."

"Stop teasing me, you little slut," he ordered, his tone shifting in a heartbeat... or a dick throb.

"Yes, Daddy," I replied, pulling his underwear down and his massive cock, completely erect, was poised before me in all its rampant glory. "God, It's even bigger up close and personal."

"Get closer and more personal, my little slut," he ordered, as I took it in my hand.

"So fucking big, Daddy," I moaned, loving the name calling, loving having my Daddy's huge cock in my hand.

"Get sucking," he ordered, as he slid his cock into my open mouth.

"Mmmmmmmm," I moaned, as his cock filled my mouth. I had never had anything this long or thick in my mouth before.

"That's it, get used to it stretching your little cock sucking mouth," he ordered, as I slowly bobbed on just the first three inches... not even half, as it was definitely over eight inches.

I moaned again, wanting him to know I was listening as I kept sucking his cock.

I was sucking my Dad's cock.

I was now my Dad's little cock sucker.

It was a massive rush to my entire body.

"You've been teasing me all day, you little cock tease," he groaned, as I thought, That's exactly what I was trying to do!

I pulled back and said, "I just wanted to tempt you enough so you couldn't resist turning your daughter into your fuck slut. It wasn't really teasing because I was planning on giving you everything I have; and I still am."

"Well, now that you're tasting the forbidden fruit, you sure you're ready for what comes next?"

"I hope what comes next is some Christmas cream," I caroled, sliding my tongue down his shaft and to his balls.

"Oh, you're going to get a number of Christmas treats tonight, kind of like egg nog," he groaned as I took a ball into my mouth.

"Christmas is coming early," I exulted a moment later as I took his other ball in my mouth.

"And very soon," he said, as I slid my wet, open lips back up his throbbing rod.

"Mmmmmmm, I'm looking forward to my first gift, Daddy," I purred demurely before taking his cock back in my mouth.

He didn't say anything as I bobbed on his cock... now taking over four inches of it into my mouth. I knew I wasn't ready to take it all in my mouth, but it was now a future goal to be able to deep throat this majestic dick. But for now I didn't want to ruin the intimate moment by gagging.

"Faster, slut," he ordered.

I obeyed.

"Oh yes, Lesley, you're going to be a better little whore than even your mother," he groaned, which turned me on even more.

I desperately wanted his first load.

On my face.

In my mouth.

I didn't care.

I just wanted to get Daddy off and reap the benefits.

I could hear his breathing changing.

I knew his load was coming.

I bobbed as fast as I could, even getting another inch in my mouth before he grunted and deposited the first of what I hoped would be many loads in me and on me.

"Swallow it all, my sexy slut daughter," he ordered, as his cum spewed in my mouth like splatters of hot chocolate.

I eagerly obeyed, feeling his thick, sweet cum splash against my tonsils and glide down my throat, warming my tummy and burning my loins.

I kept sucking until every drop of cum had been transferred from his balls to my stomach, and then slowed down and nursed his cock, not allowing it to leave my mouth until he decided to pull it out.

"Fuck, I can't believe we just did that," Dad finally said as he pulled his cock out of my mouth.

"Was it good, Daddy?" I asked, looking up from my submissive position at his feet.

"You were amazing," he said, but suddenly had a look of guilt on his face. "But this was wrong."

"Which part felt wrong, when I was sucking your cock or while you were coming in my mouth?" I asked, wanting to sound slutty.

"You really are just like your mother," he said, shaking his head.

"She loved you with all her heart and so do I," I said, stroking this cock that was beginning to consider going flaccid.

"This is illegal," he pointed out, although it was obvious he was running out of arguments to convince himself with.

"Then I wouldn't advertise it around that your daughter is your submissive cum bucket," I suggested, licking his cock head.

"Fuck it," he said, pulling me up and tossing me onto my bed.

"I hope you mean fuck me," I said, as I bounced up and down on the bed like a little girl.

"You want to be my slut?" he questioned, taking off his shirt.

"I want to be your everything so long as it's nasty," I answered, as his cock swayed back and forth as if he were the king of the jungle.

He got onto the bed, spread my legs apart roughly and said, "Let's see if you taste like your mother."

"Mmmmmmm, yes Daddy, eat your baby girl's cunt," I moaned, as he dove in head first and attacked my cunt with his tongue.

"You're so fucking wet, you little slut," he said a moment later, as he tugged at my swollen clit with a thumb and forefinger.

"You got my cunt all wet, Daddy," I moaned, "it's not your little girl's fault you're so hot," my orgasm building in a heartbeat.

"You taste great, my little slut," he said, making me feel even better about myself, having always been self-conscious about my own scent and taste.

"Yes, eat my cunt, Daddy," I said, loving to call him 'Daddy'.

He then stopped and moved his head away.

"No!" I pleaded desperately.

He sat up, grabbed my ankles, spread me wide and moved his cock toward my pussy.

"Yes!" I corrected. "Please fuck me!" I had never come from sex and was so close at the moment.

He slammed into me and I screamed, my orgasm instantly hitting me with his first deep thrust. "Yes, Daddy!"

"A nice twat trigger," he said, looking down at me as he began fucking me.

"I've never come from actual sex before," I admitted, even as my orgasm ripped through me.

"You've never had a real man," he said, pumping in and out of me.

"Nor such a big cock," I added, as the pleasure was far beyond anything I had ever experienced.

"Have you ever had multiple orgasms?" he asked, without slowing down at all.

"No, Daddy," I answered, "not even by myself," my eyes closed as the pleasure consumed my very core.

"I'm going to fuck you all night," he said.

"Oh yes, Daddy," I moaned, "Please use your baby girl all night."

And for a dozen minutes... he fucked me hard. He pulled my legs together and leaned forward, the new angle stimulating me differently. He spread my legs as wide as he could, which created a new pleasure. He lifted me up by the hips, turned me to my side and fucked me from behind.

He pulled out and ordered, "Suck my cock, slut."

I spun around like a bimbo bitch in heat and devoured his cock, tasting my cunt juice on his cock.

"Oh yeah," he groaned. "You're such a nasty fucking slut."

"I'm your nasty fucking slut," I added.

"Oh yes," he agreed, as I bobbed.

After a couple minutes of sucking, he said, pulling out and leaning back against the headboard, "Show me how badly you want to ride my cock."

As quickly as possible I straddled his cock and asked, as I lowered myself on his massive flagpole, "Do you want to watch your nasty daughter ride you, Daddy?" I gasped as I suddenly had over eight inches deep inside me.

"Yes, slut," he said, as he reached out and lifted off my nightie, which had never been hiding anything anyway. All I had on now was my red thigh highs and Mom's necklace, which were staying.

"Mmmmmm, do you like my tits, Daddy?" I asked, as I began riding his cock while he leaned forward and sucked on my nipples.

"Oh yes, Daddy, suck on your baby girl's titties," I moaned, as my second orgasm, that had been slowly building this entire time, began to escalate.

"Ride Daddy's cock, my slutty daughter," he said, as he cupped and sucked on my baseball-sized tits.

"Oh yes, Daddy, this is the best riding stick ever," I said, having been taught to drive a stick by him back when I was sixteen.

"You're a lot better at this one," he laughed.

"I think I've finally found the perfect ride," I moaned.

"And I the perfect fuck slut," he said, as he leaned back again and watched as I bounced joyfully on his cock.

I cupped my tits, wanting to put on a show for him. I pinched my nipples. "Am I a good bad girl, Daddy?"

"You're a perfect bad girl," he said, his hot gaze scorching my body.

"I want to do anything and everything Mommy ever did for you," I added.

"Oh you will," he promised, as he began to buck his hips up as I bounced down. Wow! Like riding a jackhammer!

"Mother fucker!" I screamed.

"Daughter fucker," he corrected, as we really fucked into each other.

"Daddy fucker," I screamed a few seconds later as my second orgasm erupted out of me.

"Good girl," he moaned, as I collapsed forward against him, all the energy usurped from my body.

He scooted us down the bed, rolled me onto my back, moved his cock to my face and began jerking off. I smiled, looking up at him, "Yes, Daddy, cum all over your daughter's face."

"My slut daughter's face," he corrected.

"Yes your submissive, cum craving, cock riding, nasty slut daughter's face," I added, dying to feel his load splatter against my overheated skin.

"Close your eyes and mouth," he grunted.

I did just in time as I felt his warm cum spray all over my face: my forehead, my eyes, my nose, my lips, my cheeks and my chin.

Once he was done, he said, "Yep, you look just like your mother."

I replied, keeping my eyes closed, "Like Mommy, like daughter."

"Indeed," he said.

"So, can I replace Mommy?" I asked, wiping cum off my eyelids so I could gaze fondly at all of my naked father.

"You will replace Mommy," he corrected.

"Yes, Daddy," I said, sitting up and taking his cock once more in my mouth.

After a minute I asked, "Will you fuck my ass with your big cock, Daddy?"

"That is for Christmas morning," he smiled.

"Mmmmm, best Christmas ever," I giggled.

THE END