Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
Saturday afternoon and I was in the office. Even if I was at home, I would be working, but it is generally easier for me to concentrate on my work when I am in the office for one simple reason: fewer distractions.
Still, it was mid-afternoon. The sun was shining brightly outside, people were walking through the small park adjacent to the office building, a bikini-clad teenager was tanning in the front yard of a nearby home. After the heavy rain the previous evening, it was truly a day to be outside enjoying the better weather before the next storm system was scheduled to roll over the city the following morning.
I came to a stopping point in my work, leaned back, and once again looked out the fifteenth-floor windows. With a soft sigh, I lamented being inside.
I heard the door to our office suite open, which truly shocked me. The mail had already been delivered, the security guard knew that I was in the office today, and I knew that no one else from my company would be coming to the office over the weekend as they all had family or travel commitments. Quickly, I slipped my feet back into the sandals and moved around the desk to go investigate.
My daughter Vivian stood at the receptionist’s desk, flashing me a smile.
I had not expected that she would come to visit again before the end of the semester, since it was a six-hour drive from her university back to the family home. Besides, I remembered quite vividly the end of my eight semesters as an undergrad: the final weeks were always packed with projects, papers, and procrastination.
“When you weren’t home, I knew you’d be here,” she said. We hugged warmly. It felt really good to have my daughter in my arms again, since she had not been able to come home for Spring Break due to the symphony band’s West Coast tour.
“Getting away from the memories?”
Clearly, that was why she had come home on that particular weekend. It was the two-year anniversary of the divorce being finalized, and while I knew the date all too well, its significance seemed to become even greater just because my daughter had mentioned it.
“It’s okay,” Vivian whispered soothingly, hugging me again. “I wanted to come and brighten your day, if not your whole weekend, so it hopefully won’t hurt so much to remember.”
Seeing her was like seeing my ex-wife some twenty years younger. The cliché “Like mother, like daughter” very much applied to them. Other than the age gap, they looked almost identical: very similar hazel eyes, identical long light brown hair, same tall height with attractive curves…
“At least for today,” she offered, “let me take care of you. I know you’ve been working quite hard for a long, long time to take care of us and now me, even though I’m almost always away at school, but let me take care of you for once. Okay, Daddy?”
I smiled as I fondly kissed her cheek. “Okay,” I agreed, “but I definitely need to finish this project first. It shouldn’t take more than about ninety minutes or so. Why don’t you go on home and I’ll catch up with you there, okay?”
“Okay, but I’m fixing dinner tonight and making sure that you get some time to truly relax and unwind.”
That was the fastest ninety minutes of my entire working life.
When I returned home, I was a bit hungry despite the larger-than-usual breakfast late that morning. With work no longer lurking at the back of my mind, I also noticed what I had not noticed while in the office.
Vivian was wearing the same clothes: dark gray short-sleeve fitted shirt, bayan arkadaş black jeans with golden glitter in a wavy line down the outside of each leg, dark brown sandals, and her favorite bear claw – from a trip to New Mexico years earlier – strung on a thin leather cord. Yet I noticed things that I should not have noticed: the outline of her bra straps as they rose over her shoulders, the outline of the cups of her bra pressing against the front of the fitted shirt, the prominence of her breasts due both to the snug fit of the shirt and the bear claw positioned directly between her breasts, the way the jeans seemed to be molded to her to enhance her clearly-firm backside…
Even as we maintained a normal conversation about how things had been doing for her back on campus, my eyes were taking note. At one point, I even smiled to myself when I remembered the “Female Body Inspector” t-shirt I had seen someone wearing recently, because at that moment, I was definitely inspecting a female body, yet it was the body of a female who I should not have been inspecting.
I truly hope that Vivian did not notice how my eyes were wandering her body, appraising her. If she did notice, she did not say anything nor did she act any differently. I was aware that she was smiling a bit more often, however, but attributed that to being home for the first time since the holiday break.
She also seemed “touchier,” for lack of a better word. She had hugged me more than once in the office, and even once I returned home, she hugged me three times before dinner and otherwise would brush my arm or my shoulder whenever she was near me. I definitely did not mind – living alone, a touch was rare for me beyond a handshake when meeting someone in the office or at a client site – but it did raise my curiosity, yet I could not ask her about it because I could not find the right words to make my question known without sounding accusatory. Eventually, I figured that perhaps Vivian was just at the point in her menstrual cycle when her hormones were much more active and she was more susceptible to flirting on a subconscious level; if she had to flirt, it was probably best to flirt with me, with someone safe who would definitely not do any harm to her in any way.
Vivian refused to allow me to assist with dinner, and was adamant that I leave the kitchen while she was putting away the leftovers and washing the dishes. Compared to my ex-wife, it was a refreshing change, but I also felt guilty because, after all, why should my daughter make a six-hour drive just to cook for me and then clean the kitchen afterward?
When she finally emerged from the kitchen, I was relaxing in my favorite recliner, my eyes closed as I thought about the events since Vivian’s arrival at the office. I heard her approaching me, but did not open my eyes. To my surprise, she sat in my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck – that definitely did cause my eyes to open, especially since she had rarely done that since she was about seven years old, and whenever she had sat in my lap like that, it was because she wanted something, typically something expensive or difficult to find.
Instinctively, my arms encircled her, and Vivian and I hugged yet again. I was losing count of the number of times we had hugged just that day alone.
“You must be tired from the long drive,” I commented.
“A little,” she admitted. “I had to get up quite early, and I think my roommate thought I was crazy to be getting up so early. Then again, she’s the one who was out drinking until 3AM.”
“I see. bayan partner You didn’t go with her?”
“I did for the first drink, but then I left the party because Chantal and I had tickets for a movie on campus at 10.”
“Chantal… You haven’t mentioned her in a while, not even in your e-mails.”
“Yeah, well, she and I haven’t spent much time together really. She spends almost every waking hour either in class, in lab, or with Jacob.”
“Um…” Vivian noticeably hesitated a moment. “Yes, but…”
“Well, she actually has two boyfriends.”
“I see. Polyamorous.”
“You’re familiar with that?”
“Firsthand, no, but I’ve known some people in poly relationships. I don’t think it’s for me, but I’m not about to begrudge someone for loving more than one person at a time so long as everyone involved is fully aware of the situation.”
“That’s the difference.”
My ex-wife had apparently loved someone else in addition to me, but she had kept it a secret until, of all people, Vivian discovered the truth. “Yeah. That’s the difference.”
“Sorry,” she said sincerely. “I didn’t mean to drudge up thoughts of her.”
“It’s okay,” I assured her, yet Vivian hugged me tightly again nonetheless.
To my amazement, Vivian did not want anything expensive or difficult to find. We lapsed into silence, and she remained in my lap, her grasp loosening but otherwise leaning against me. Clearly, she wanted to be there with me, and I wondered if perhaps sitting my lap was a way for her to feel young and girly again.
However, her extremely close presence stirred something within me. Even though I tried to mentally fight it, part of me soon stirred against her despite my willpower.
Her grasp tightened subtly, then Vivian fully hugged me again. My erection continued to form against her, yet I was powerless to do anything about it without creating an incredible scene which would likely scar us both forever.
“That’s it…” she whispered softly, I think more to herself than to me. But before I could ask for a clarification, my daughter kissed my cheek – which was not particularly uncommon between us – and then kissed my lips.
That was definitely uncommon between us. It was also the first kiss for me in nearly three years, and instinctively, I responded in kind, my own grasp of my daughter tightening around her, my hand suddenly very aware of the clasp of the bra separated from my hand only by her form-fitting shirt.
Vivian separated from me at last and stood. For the space of a heartbeat, I thought that this most unusual turn of events had ended.
Instead, she straddled my legs, pressing herself against me as we kissed once again.
This time, the kiss was longer, deeper, and grew more intense. My hands took the lead in escalating the event, cupping her firm derriere before eventually moving up and around her to fondle her breasts.
I was fondling my own daughter. Part of me was scared, repulsed, but part of me was just thankful that, finally, after so much time alone, after so much loneliness, I was able to fondle someone.
…someone who clearly appreciated my attentions and, from the sounds she was making as her mouth allowed my tongue access inside her, someone who clearly wanted my attentions.
I could feel my logical mind shutting down. It almost felt like my brain was severing any part of me which might respond negatively to the social status which linked me with the woman straddling my lap and reaching bdsm escort down to stroke the bulge at the front of my jeans.
Suddenly, I no longer had access to logic, nor to reason, nor to conformity. That was when my hands began to lift her shirt…
Time passed in a haze. I have only fleeting memories of a topless woman still straddling my legs as I took a nipple between my teeth, my jeans unbuttoned and unzipped as her hand reached inside my underwear to stroke me, walking together up the stairs and pausing to kiss deeply and intensely again, looking down at her as she took me into her mouth, pulling off her jeans and briefly admiring her cute pink Minnie Mouse panties, tasting her and losing myself in her abundant nectar, seeing her look up at me and reach up to my face as her own face contorted with growing pleasure…
I vividly remember feeling my pent-up lust rocketing along my length as I rutted fiercely into her. I remember being appalled and absolutely fearful of the primal beast taking his pleasure from her body. I will never forget the triumphant howl which seemed to reverberate off the walls.
I definitely remember sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at the white trickling from between her spread thighs, and bursting into uncontrollable sobs.
I may not have raped her, but I had just violated my own daughter. Yet when she wrapped her arms around me to console me, I clutched her fiercely, sobbing into her shoulder, loudly proclaiming how sorry I was. My rational mind had definitely returned to the fore, and I was having extreme difficulty reconciling what I had just done with my more than forty years of societal expectations.
Somehow, I ended up on my back upon the bed – upon her bed – with my legs over the edge, my toes barely able to touch the floor. She knelt between my legs, cleaning me with her mouth, enticing me to full arousal yet again, her actions causing my logical, rational mind to again become severed from the rest of my brain…
It took quite a while since I needed to recharge, but she did not relent. She kept bobbing her head. She kept stroking the root of my erection. She kept gently kneading my testicles. She kept adoring me unlike anyone else had ever done.
She kept going until she swallowed all that I could give her.
I was still breathing hard when I felt her settle beside me on the bed. She kissed my cheek, then turned my head.
We gazed into each other’s eyes. For a moment, I could have sworn that I was looking into my ex-wife’s eyes. But in the background I could see the baby blue of the wall, and I instantly recognized that paint color as being a part of my daughter’s bedroom.
Not only had I violated my daughter’s body, but I had done so in her own bedroom, the one place where she should always feel safe.
The tears began to fall again, but she kissed them away before they could fall from my cheeks. She said nothing – she simply kissed away the tears and caressed my chest, her hand primarily lingering directly over my heart. In any other circumstance, with any other woman, it would have felt romantic, but in this case, it felt…
I simply did not have words for it, and I still cannot adequately describe how I felt.
“Don’t worry,” Vivian finally whispered. “You needed this.”
Deep inside, I knew that she was right, but I still should not have given in to my need with her – with my daughter. Of all the women on the planet, it definitely should not have been Vivian who had twice felt my seed shooting into her.
“I’m always here for you, Daddy,” she assured me. Even though my eyes were filling with tears again, I could see just well enough, just enough detail, to recognize the truth in her hazel eyes, and although my rational mind protested, I drew her down to me for the most heartfelt hug my daughter and I had ever shared.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32