Dating my Daughter
by Pan
Chapter 4
My daughter was glowing the next morning, even more than after our dates. My wife commented on it, but Cherese just waved her away.
“I’m just in a good mood,” she beamed, before throwing me a knowing look.
I raised my eyebrows, but fortunately her mother didn’t seem to notice that anything was up.
No part of me was surprised when my daughter took the first opportunity to get me alone. She was wearing the most revealing outfit I’d ever seen. On her bottom half, a skirt so short, her blue thong was exposed every time she moved. She’d spent the morning taking any opportunity to flash me her firm, round, perfect ass...and show off the dark bruises which had developed since the previous night.
She had knee-high stockings on, and was wearing a complete set of underwear for once: her ensemble was topped off by a push-up bra. Talk about gilding refined gold. A push-up bra was the last thing a pair of breasts as large and firm as my daughter’s needed, but I had to admit—the effect was staggering.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen my daughter’s eyes sparkle with such mischief as when she saw me staring at her body, but I couldn’t help myself. Even in front of her mother and brother, it was difficult to tear my eyes away. Her nipples were rock hard under the thin fabric of her top; a tight yellow Arianda Grande t-shirt which clung to the curves of her ample chest.
My wife had taken our son clothes shopping; less than ten minutes after she left, my daughter approached me in the living room. She’d run around all morning barefoot, but and as soon as her mother was out of the house, Cherese had put on black heels to match her stockings. The effect was stunning; my daughter’s legs were long and lean, her thighs smooth and perfectly formed.
Her skin glowed in the sunlight as she walked over to me, her eyes flitting between my face and her own body. My eyes were avoiding hers…which only left her exposed skin to look at.
“Daddy,” she said huskily as she stopped just shy of me.
“You look very pretty today, Cherie,” I said softly as she sat beside me in the living room. She blushed at the compliment, moving her hand to my thigh.
“I was thinking...” she said, biting her lip as she looked up at me. “You were touching my nipples when I came last night...”
“Uh huh,” I said flatly.
“And I definitely wouldn’t have cum so hard if you hadn’t spanked me,” Cherese continued. My eyebrows rose; my daughter was either lying, or she’d enjoyed her punishment more than she’d let on at the time.
“Mm-hmm?”
Cherese smiled sweetly and leaned in close to me. “So, really, doesn’t that mean that I owe you another orgasm?”
In response, I just laughed.
“Daddy...” she pouted, moving her hand up my thigh. I reached down and put my hand on hers, picking it up and placing it back by her side.
“Sweetie,” I gently replied. “No. We’re even now. We’re not going to do anything more until our date on Friday.”
“What if I can’t wait until then?” Cherese whined, her voice cracking a little.
“Then this will be a good lesson in self-control,” I said firmly. “It builds character.”
My daughter huffed, throwing herself against the couch beside me.
“You mean that every week, I have to wait until Friday to have any fun?”
“We can have fun before then,” I said, and my daughter’s eyes lit up.
“Really??”
“Of course,” I nodded., gesturing to the board game cupboard. I started listing games. “We’ve got Scrabble, Clue, cards, Codenames Duet...”
Cherese shot me a glare. “That’s not what I meant.”
I continued as if she’d never spoken. “Or we could watch a movie, or go to the park, or...”
“Please, Daddy,” my daughter said plaintively, moving one hand between her legs. “You know what I want. What I need.”
A grin crossed her face.
“...what if I were to beg you? You like that, don’t you Daddy? Your daughter, on her knees, begging for you to touch her. Begging for permission to touch you...”
I shook my head. “This isn’t going to work, honey. We’re going to have our last date on Friday, and——”
The sound of my daughter’s shriek made my ears hurt.
“Our last date??“
“That’s right,” I said sadly. My daughter stared at me for several seconds; her mouth open, but no words coming out. I moved my gaze to the ceiling and reached one arm out; Cherese sat on my lap for a cuddle. “It’s okay, darling. We’ll just have to make sure it’s a good one.”
“But can’t we—”
I cut her off. “No, Cherese.”
“But...why do we have to stop?”
I sighed, stroking my daughter’s hair. “Because...it’s time. I’ll have taught you enough to take care of yourself, baby girl.”
Glancing down at my daughter, I saw that she’d set her mouth stubbornly. That’s one thing you can say about my daughter; she never gives up.
“Cherese...” I warned, as she leaned up to kiss me. Her lips were soft, and warm, and tasted like vanilla. After just a few moments, I pulled away. “Not until Friday.”
“What if I were bad?” she said desperately, a spark in her eyes. “What if I was such a wicked girl, you had no choice but to punish me?”
I had to bite my lip to stop myself from gasping when she leaned back and pulled her top down, exposing her erect pink nipples.
“Oops,” my daughter smiled wickedly. I rolled my eyes and looked away from my daughter’s plump breasts. “Are you hard, Daddy?”
I was—as Cherese well knew, with her almost-bare ass perched atop my lap—but I wasn’t going to admit that to her.
“Put those away,” I ordered, and my daughter obeyed.
“Are you going to punish me for being so naughty?” she asked, and I nodded.
“Mm-hmm,” I said, trying to ignore her squriming with arousal, grinding her ass into her father’s hard cock. “You’re grounded for a week.”
Cherese’s eyes widened. “What??”
“For a week,” I repeated firmly. “And if you don’t start behaving yourself, it’ll be longer.”
My daughter’s lips quivered, and for a moment I wondered if I was being too harsh. Then I remember the sight of her hard nipples in my face, and I knew I was doing the right thing.
“Couldn’t you spank me instead?” she pleaded, and I shook my head.
“From the sound of it, that wasn’t much of a punishment. Now, aren’t those admissions documents due today?”
My daughter let out a frustrated grunt, and stormed out of the room. I watched as her heels clacked their way across the living-room floor, her dress swaying, the occasional flash of her thong-clad ass appearing as she walked.
Cherese has the stubbornness of a mule; she tried another tactic later that night (“what if we were to just masturbate near each other?") and thrice more the next day.
It reminded me of bed-time when she’d been an infant; trying excuse after excuse not to go to bed. ”I’m thirsty”, ”it’s too hot“, ”I can’t find Peggy” (the stuffed toy dinosaur she refused to sleep without—which we often found crammed down the side of the bed, as far as a toddler’s arms could reach).
Her reasoning as an eighteen-year old as much more cogent: ”it isn’t fair to leave me so frustrated” (I reminded her that she was more than capable of taking herself); ”it doesn’t have to be a date, we could just take care of each other as father and daughter” (which I informed her was not an appropriate way for a parent to interact with their child); and most offensively of all, “I can take care of you better than Mom can.”
I turned her down each time, of course. She’d really put the effort in; her nails were painted a bright red, to match her lipstick. She’d begun to forego underwear, wearing a tight pink dress which hugged every curve of her body like a second skin. As she pleaded for me to reconsider, she’d gotten down on her knees in front of me, giving me an incredible view of her cleavage.
It wasn’t until her mouth fell open that I realized the word I’d been searching for: bimbo. My intelligent, articulate daughter had dressed like a dumb slut in her attempt to convince me to break the rules and use her for our shared pleasure. I’ll bet she would have dyed her hair blonde if she’d thought it would help.
“I know I can do better than her,” she pleaded, kneeling in front of me submissively. “I know you think of me when you make love to her. I bet you remember what it was like to cum in my mouth, to feel your cock throbbing inside my throat.”
“That’s enough, Cherese,” I snapped. “Not appropriate.”
“Please, Daddy, I promise,” she continued. “I won’t tell anyone. I’ll do anything you want, just let me—”
I held up my hand, and my daughter fell silent, her eyes shining as she waited for my response. “You’re not helping yourself here, disrespecting your mother like that. I want you to apologize.”
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said with a pout.
“To your mother, as well.”
My wife was in the next room; Cherese hadn’t even waited until we were alone to proposition me. I was so mad at her, I almost considered cancelling our date on Friday as a punishment.
Almost.
Cherese looked at me in confusion. “You’re going to offer to do the dishes tonight,” I instructed, staring into her eyes, and my daughter nodded obediently. “And if you try to convince me one more time, you’ll be grounded until the day you leave for college.”
My daughter stared back at me, her eyes filling with tears, but after a few moments she nodded. “Yes, Daddy.”
I smiled down at her.
“Good girl.”
Reaching down my hand, I lifted her up. She looked so morose, I couldn’t help myself, leaning down and bringing my lips to her. Perhaps not the smartest move, with my wife and son just a few feet away, but I knew Cherese needed something to hold onto before our date.
She moaned softly, her mouth opening under mine. Her tongue flicked out and into my mouth. We kissed for several minutes, my hands roaming my daughter’s body, grasping her ass firmly and brushing the back of my hand across her sensitive breasts.
Finally, I pulled away, and ran my hand down my daughter’s cheek.
“Friday,” I reminded her softly, and she nodded again, shivering with need.
All day on Tuesday I was met with pleading stares, but I stayed resolute. To her credit, so did Cherese; she didn’t approach me once...though she did continue dressing to capture my attention, spending the day in a slutty little dress which left nothing to the imagination, showing off her plump tits and long legs for the world to see.
As I passed her room that night, I heard her moan as she masturbated. I listened to make sure that she wasn’t screaming “Daddy” or anything else incriminating, but she wasn’t. She really was a good girl.
On Wednesday, she dressed more chastely (although honestly, with my daughter’s body, almost anything she wore would draw attention) and her looks of lust were replaced by sulks and puzzled stares.
Thursday showed a real shift. Cherese dressed in an outfit which looked like it aimed to cover every inch of her incredible body. She nervously left the room whenever I entered, prompting my wife to ask what had happened.
“Teenagers,” I shrugged, and she nodded knowingly.
As I brewed my morning coffee on Friday, I was met with an angry stare. I turned to see my daughter glaring at me, fists clenched. She wasn’t dressed as chastely as the day before, but her outfit certainly did nothing to highlight her curves: Cherese was wearing a pair of long trousers and an ‘ugly sweater’, which had apparently gone from being an embarrassment to a trend.
Having two children has taught me not to engage in their attention-seeking displays of emotion (it just encourages them) and I greeted my daughter with a cheerful smile, keeping my eyes on the mug of joe in my hand.
“Morning, sweetheart,” I said. “Would you like a coffee?”
She didn’t respond, just continued to stare daggers in my direction. I raised one eyebrow, but kept the grin affixed to my face as I stared at the black liquid.
“You excited for our date tonight?”
Using my peripheral vision, I could see the hate in my daughter’s eyes disappear, soon to be replaced by a flicker of fear.
“N-no,” she stammered. “I’m...I’m not going.”
“It’ll be a great time,” I continued, ignoring her mood. “Third date.”
I waggled my eyebrows suggestively, but my daughter jutted out her jaw.
“I’m serious,” she repeated. “I’m not going.”
I sighed.
“I’m sure you’ll have a great time. This is just like Girl Scouts; you complained and complained each week that you didn’t want to go, but you were always grateful that you did.”
My daughter repeated herself again insistently. “I’m not going.”
Her stubbornness was so cute, I decided to let it go.
“We’ll see,” I said, walking past her. I glanced back as I left the kitchen; my daughter was still staring at the spot where I’d been standing, a look of true fear on her face.
I didn’t see her again until that evening, though I did hear her sobbing when I passed her room. My wife was in there with her; I couldn’t quite make out what she was saying, just the comforting tone in her voice.
I kept walking. I like to think I’m reasonably in touch with my feelings, but I knew better than to interrupt two women talking about emotions.
When my wife entered our bedroom half an hour later, she didn’t volunteer an update on what they’d been talking about, and I didn’t ask. Women’s business; well outside my purview.
A few hours later, I got in my car, circled the block, and proudly knocked on the front door of my own house. My wife answered the door, raising her eyebrows approvingly when she saw me. I’d gone all out for our final date, hiring a tight black tuxedo. The jacket hugged my chest and the pants were flatteringly snug around the crotch.
“Wow,” my wife said, and I did a spin to show off the outfit. I was wearing the cufflinks that she’d given me on our twentieth anniversary.
I laughed at the smattering of applause my faux-pirouette received, and had to resist the urge to take my wife into my arms and kiss her. This was a date with my daughter, after all; kissing her mother wouldn’t be appropriate.
“Quite the outfit,” my wife beamed. “It’s good to know I’m leaving my daughter in such good hands.”
“Where is she?” I asked. My wife’s face fell, and she gestured upstairs.
On each of the last two Friday nights, the staircase had been used to showcase my daughter’s entrance. On that night, it remained empty.
“She won’t come out,” my wife replied with a shake of her head.
I pursed my lips.
“I’ll handle it,” I said quietly, leaning forward and kissing her on the cheek. I got a tight smile in response, and my wife squeezed my hand; I hadn’t even noticed her taking it, it was so natural after our twenty plus years together.
I loved her so much.
“You and Rick have a good time, okay?”
“We will,” she nodded. My wife and son were going to stay with her parents for half the weekend; my father-in-law owns a ranch upstate, and we had an open invite to join them whenever we wanted. We normally went as a family unit, but I’d told my wife how important this final date was with Cherese, and she’d taken the opportunity to spend time with her folks.
“Goodnight, honey.” I kissed my wife’s hand, then walked away.
The stairs creaked as I climbed them, reminding me of my daughter’s bed earlier that week. Cherese’s door was firmly closed.
Once I heard the rest of my family leave, I gave it a firm rap.
“Go away,” she said in response, her voice scared and tearful. “I’m not going.“
“It’s me,” I called softly. “I’m here for our date.”
“There’s not going to be a date!” my daughter replied loudly. “I’m not going anywhere!”
I sighed.
“Honey...”
“No!” she shrieked, and I could tell she was getting hysterical. “Go away! Please, Daddy, I-I...I don’t want to go!”
Shaking my head, I tried the doorknob. I don’t allow locks on my children’s doors, but when I pushed, I was met with a resistance; Cherese must have stacked some furniture against the door.
“I’m coming in,” I warned.
“Please,” my daughter sobbed in response. “Please, just leave me alone...”
I’m not at my peak fitness (two teenage children don’t leave a lot of time for going to the gym) but I’m far from out of shape, so after a few controlled shoves, I managed to open the door enough to slip through.
Cherese was cowering on the bed, balled up into a bundle of fear. She stared at me like I was a nightmare, tears streaming down her face.
“P-please, Daddy,” she choked—words that she’d said on the same bed just a few days ago, though in a very different tone. “You don’t have to do this.”
I took a step towards my daughter; she tried to back up even further, but she was up against the headboard.
“Stop,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Don’t come near me!”
I ignored her, moving closer until I stood right in front of her. Her eyes darted around the room nervously, as though looking for a weapon she could use against me.
I wasn’t worried. Even in her state of panic, I knew Cherese wouldn’t hurt me. Besides, I was easily twice her size; I could certainly defend myself against my slip of a daughter.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said again, low and urgent. I sat down on the bed beside her; she flinched as I reached out to stroke her cheek.
“I’m not doing anything,” I said. She closed her eyes tightly, slowly rocking back and forth, as though trying to block out my touch.
Cherese didn’t say anything, just continued to rock. After a minute or two, I tried again.
“What’s going on, honey?” I asked. “You can tell me anything.”
A bark of laughter left her mouth, humorless and bitter.
“Fuck you,” she spat, her eyes still scrunched shut.
“Language,” I warned, and she shuddered. I leaned over to kiss the top of her head, my heart dropping as she drew away.
No father wants to make his daughter flinch.
“Please Cherie,” I insisted, stroking her face. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”
My request was met with another long silence, but I waited patiently for her to collect her thoughts. When they came, she spoke in a whisper so soft that I had to lean in close to hear it.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked again. “I don’t...I don’t understand?”
“Tell me what I’m doing,” I replied gently. “I’ll do what I can to explain.”
“Th-the dates,” she stammered, her voice breaking. “The dates, and w-what we do on them. It’s so fucked up Daddy, I don’t—“
I squeezed her shoulder, silently reprimanding her for the language, and Cherese fell silent.
“The dates are for you, honey,” I smiled. “It’s only a few weeks until you go to college; once you’re out there, in the real world, I won’t be able to protect you. You’re my world, honey; you and Rick mean everything to me. To your mother. We only want what’s best for you.”
“Bullshit,” my daughter responded hoarsely. “Th-that doesn’t explain anything. What you did to me. What y-you made me do. What you made me want.“
I stroked her hair, just as I’d done when she was a child. She shivered, and my heart broke for her. She was so confused, so scared...whenever I saw my daughter feeling like this, I just wished I could hug it all away.
“I won’t be able to protect you out there,” I repeated. “There are bad people out there, honey; they’re going to want things from you. Because of the...the way you look.”
I glanced down at my daughter’s body. She was wearing a thick top several sizes too large for her, and a lumpy pair of sweatpants. But even though she’d clearly done all she could to hide her body, it was still immediately obvious that she had an incredible figure. My daughter was beautiful, curvaceous...by far the sexiest woman I’d ever met. I was proud to have had a part in bringing her to life, and honored to be on a date with her.
“Your mother and I have tried not to be helicopter parents—fortunately, neither of our children turned out to be helicopters.”
I paused, but my joke didn’t even get a smile. My daughter’s face was downturned, her plump lips pressed together tightly.
“We tried not to over-parent you,” I continued slowly, “but there’s every chance that we sheltered you from the reality of the world. Once you’re out of the house, I can’t help you. All I can do is make sure that when the time comes for you to move on, you’ll be ready.”
“Those are just words,” my daughter said, her voice shaking with anger. “None of that explains what you’ve been doing. How you’ve been...making me feel. Do you have any idea how much you’ve fucked me up?”
I refrained from telling her off for swearing, and let her finish. Maybe she’d feel better when it was out of her system.
“I...I spent days wanting you, Daddy,” she spat. “I touched myself, remembering what we’d done. What you made me do. I can’t get into the car without thinking about your hands on my tits.”
Cherese shuddered with disgust.
“Good thing you’re grounded,” I joked—again, my attempt at levity got no response.
“Even my room is tainted now,” she said, her voice getting higher. “I can’t even sleep in my own bed without remembering my father’s fingers on me. Inside me. I...ugh.“
Another shudder wracked her body. I put an arm around her, and squeezed her.
“I feel dirty,” my daughter said hollowly. “I feel dirty, all the time. You’re sick. You’re sick, and your sickness has spread to me. W-why? Why did you do this to me? How did any part of you think this is okay?”
I paused, but it seemed as though her rant was done. I continued to hold her, giving her comfort in the only way I knew how.
“I love you,” I whispered.
She didn’t respond. Her body was shaking uncontrollably.
“I know,” she said finally, her voice barely a whisper. “I mean, that’s what’s so fucked up about it. I know you love me, I know you do. But...why do you make me do w-what we did? Why did you use me like that?”
“I’m sorry if I made you do something you didn’t want to do,” I said earnestly, dropping a kiss on the crown of her head. “That was never my intention.”
“But I wanted to!” my daughter cried, her eyes filling with tears again. “I wanted all of it. I don’t even know why, but I did.”
“If you wanted it,” I said slowly, “then I don’t know what the problem was.”
At last, my daughter opened her eyes, looking up at me in stunned confusion. I caught her gaze, staring deeply into her sad, worried eyes.
It felt like we sat like that for an eternity, me sitting on my daughter’s bed, peering into her so intensely it felt like I could see her very soul. My expression was one of calm, fatherly love; hers was of terror and bewilderment. As the minutes passed, her breathing slowed, and I could feel the tension beginning to leave her body.
My daughter swallowed hard, and I could tell she was trying to force herself to speak.
“You really don’t, do you?” she finally asked, her voice trembling. “You really don’t know why I’m upset.”
I smiled. “I know that you’re mad at me,” I replied, moving my hand down to cup her face. “And I think some part of you is mad at yourself.”
“B-but...”
Cherese continued to stare deeply into my eyes, her lip trembling. As the clock ticked in the background, she grew more and more relaxed, her body slowly returning to normal.
“But why did you t-touch me, Daddy?” she asked. “I’m your daughter.“
I smiled at her, a smile was full of affection and love.
“Because you’re beautiful,” I answered honestly. “You’re so beautiful, and I needed you to understand.”
“Understand what?” my daughter pleaded.
“How beautiful you are,” I said simply. “I know how women are. They don’t believe in their own attractiveness, and...honey, you’re going out into the world. You’re going to be alone out there. If you don’t know how beautiful you are, if you don’t know what men are going to expect of you, you won’t survive a moment. I did it all for you, baby. For you.”
I stroked her forehead, gently smoothing her bangs back.
“You’re my little girl,” I told her softly. “You’ll always be my little girl, and I’d do anything for you. Anything in the world.”
“I don’t want to go on this date, Daddy,” Cherese replied tremblingly. “P-please. I don’t want to go out with you, and—”
“Okay,” I interrupted with a smile. My daughter’s eyes widened at my response, her mouth opening slightly in confusion.
“W-what?”
“It’s the third date, baby,” I said, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “See, this is why you need them, so you’ll understand these things.”
“What things?” Cherese asked, still staring intently into my eyes.
“Dates. Expectations. This is the third date, and that means we’re not going out.”
Cherese’s eyes narrowed, and I laughed, never breaking our gaze for a moment.
“Rick and your mother are away for the weekend. We have the whole place to ourselves. We’re not going to go anywhere; I’m going to cook dinner for you right here at home.”
“B-but...”
“Don’t worry; I know how to cook some dishes.” Well, one. “Besides,” I chuckled. “You’re still grounded, so you wouldn’t have been able to go out anyway. Lucky for you, your father is lenient, and your date is...flexible.“
I smiled, very proud of my plan. My daughter was silent, unmoving. I took her hand in mine and squeezed it reassuringly.
“Surprise.”
“Th-that’s not what I—”
I leaned forward, interrupting my daughter with a kiss. I hadn’t kissed her since her final attempt to convince me to fool around, and it wasn’t until my lips met hers that I realized how much I’d missed it. Her soft mouth parted, and she continued staring into my eyes as my tongue softly ran across her lower lip.
“Mmm,” I sighed as I pulled back. Cherese didn’t say anything, just continued staring at me, though I noticed that her breathing had increased once more.
“Daddy...” she finally gulped. “I...”
“Come on, darling,” I said, taking her chin between my thumb and forefinger. “Come and watch your date cook.”
She unwillingly let out a chuckle. “Try to cook, you mean.”
I smiled. “Tonight is going to be full of surprises.”
Neither of us spoke for several minutes as I stared softly into my daughter’s eyes. Finally, she nodded, and reached out tentatively with one hand to touch the jacket of my rented tuxedo.
“I-if we’re not going out, why are you...”
“Because this is our last date,” I said, a tinge of sadness in my voice. “And I wanted it to be...everything. A dream. A fantasy come true.”
Cherese nodded slowly, as though she still couldn’t believe what she was agreeing to.
“So what should I...”
“I picked something out for you,” I smiled. “Let me get it.”
When I returned with my daughter’s date outfit, she tensed up in shock at the sight of it…but when she met my gaze once more, her eyes softened. After several more minutes had passed, she nodded.
“Okay, Daddy,” she said softly. Distantly, like she wasn’t really the one speaking.
“Good girl,” I replied. “Meet me downstairs.”
As I began preparing the kitchen, I briefly wondered if my daughter was going to join me, or if she’d have second thoughts. But sooner than I’d expected, I turned to see Cherese standing in the doorway, and my eyebrows shot up at the sight—much like my wife’s had when she’d seen me in my tux.
I’d given a lot of thought into what we would each wear on this ultimate dream date; it’s my belief that a man never looks more attractive than in a tuxedo. For women, it’s a little harder—an argument could be made that they look best naked, but I’d decided to go with another option.
Cherese stood in front of me wearing nothing but a string bikini and heels. Her eyes were downcast, her hands behind her back; the nervousness added a little spice to what was already an smoking hot ensemble.
The bikini was black, contrasting perfectly against her white skin, and emphasized her every curve in the most alluring way possible. It clung tightly to my daughter’s huge breasts, and a few wisps of her curly pubic hair could be seen poking out the sides of the bikini bottom.
Her mother and I had never let her own a bikini before (once Cherese’s curves had come in, she drew more than enough attention in even the most conservative one-piece), but her body could have been built designed to fill one out.
She looked incredible. No, more than incredible: perfect. Like a walking wet dream. Like every man’s ultimate fantasy come to life.
I smiled proudly, and stepped towards my daughter, unable to resist. I ran a finger along the side of her neck, tracing over the line where her collarbone ended and her chest started, directly above her bikini top.
Cherese shivered at my touch.
“You look so sexy,” I said huskily. Cherese shifted, and it took me a moment to realize she was crying, fat tears rolling down her face. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
“D-daddy, please,” she sobbed. “I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to...”
My shoulders slumped. This again.
“Baby,” I said, grabbing her face firmly and staring into my daughter’s blood-shot eyes. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
She shook her head.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she gasped. I tried to ignore the snot trickling out of her nose. “I can’t... I just...”
“Shh,” I whispered soothingly. “Shhh, honey. We’re going to have a great time. By the time we’re done, you won’t want it to end.
“I k-know,” she said, her shoulders shaking. “I know I won’t. That’s the p-problem, Daddy, I...”
She trailed off, and I pulled her into my arms, holding her close and stroking her back gently.
My daughter sobbed into my chest. “I love you,” I told her softly. “I always will.”
Cherese sniffled, and nodded slightly as she continued to cry. After several minutes, my daughter finally calmed down. I pulled back and we stared deeply into each other’s eyes once more.
After a while, my daughter spoke.
“Daddy,” she whimpered. I shook my head before she could follow it up with another objection.
“I don’t want to hear it,” I said firmly. “We’re doing this, baby, and you’re going to have a great time.”
I was glad I hadn’t yet turned on the stove, because another five minutes passed before Cherese nodded, a shudder passing through her body as she did.
A smile slowly crept across my face. “I know what’ll make you feel better,” I said, moving my hands to my daughter’s waist and gently kissing her forehead.
“W-what?”
I leaned to the side, reaching inside a cabinet to pull out a bottle of wine. Cherese’s eyes widened.
“I-I don’t want...”
“Of course you do,” I said with a chuckle. “What teenager turns down alcohol?”
I grabbed two glasses, and poured us each a glass.
“Drink up,” I said, staring into my daughter’s eyes once more. With another shudder of fear, she reached out and took the glass from me.
“To a wonderful night,” I said, raising my glass.
Cherese smiled weakly and lifted her own glass. I stared deeply into her hazel eyes as I sipped my wine; my daughter gulped, finishing her entire glass in one long swallow.
“Good girl,” I muttered, and poured her another.
Aside from her chest, my daughter is quite slight; within half an hour, the alcohol had loosened her up considerably. She sat at the counter as I cooked. Silently at first, but by the time the bottle almost empty (though I was still on my second glass), she was slurredly chattering to me about everything and nothing.
“So then Joanne said to me, ‘You should have seen him,’ and I just laughed and said, ‘Yeah, maybe if I was blind.’”
I chuckled, refilling her glass. Her stories reminded me of the ones she’d told me as a small child, excitedly trying to explain the plots of movies she’d seen, with no idea of the context that other people required to understand what she was talking about.
“You’re so sexy,” I said softly, and Cherese blushed, looking away. “Really, darling. You are.”
I was acutely aware of the contrast between us; me, in a full tuxedo (although with an apron over it; I could imagine spilling something on myself and being on the line for the full cost of the suit) and my daughter wearing nothing but a skimpy bikini and heels.
“Daddy,” she groaned. “Y-you shouldn’t...”
“Shouldn’t what?” I asked, tilting my head to the side.
“You shouldn’t...shouldn’t look at me like that. Think of me like that. I’m your daughter.“
I crossed the room, taking her head in my hands. “Not tonight, sweetie,” I whispered. “Tonight, I’m your date. I’m your fantasy date, and I’m going to treat you to the most incredible evening of your life. I promise.”
Shook her head, but as I stared into her eyes, she nodded. I leaned in and kissed her; her mouth was rich with the taste of wine, but behind it was the increasingly-familiar taste of her. Cherese. My daughter’s delicious mouth.
I drank her kiss like a man dying of thirst. I knew that I could never get enough of it, of her. I could’ve done this all night long—I wanted to do this for years.
But I couldn’t. I pulled back, my smile tinged with sadness. This was our last date; my last date with my daughter before I set her free, watched her go out into the world and become a woman.
We had to make the most of it.
“I’m your fantasy date,” I repeated. “And you’re mine.”
“Daddy...” she gasped, swaying on her chair. I chuckled.
“We should get some food into you,” I said, and my suggestion was met with a nod.
I’d made spaghetti, Cherese’s favorite meal...and one of the few things I could cook without burning it to a crisp, or setting the kitchen on fire. It came out perfect—the sauce thick and creamy, the spaghetti al dente.
I handed Cherese a plate, watching with pride as she took a bite, her eyes widening. “Oh my god,” she sighed.
“It’s good?” I asked.
“Mmhm!” she replied, and I smiled.
“Okay, then,” I said. “Let’s eat.”
As I sat beside my daughter and enjoyed the meal with her, it could’ve been a regular family dinner. The only differences were my daughter’s inebriation and our unusual dress; it was otherwise a situation we’d been in thousand of times over the past two decades.
“Daddy” Cherese pouted. “My glass is empty...”
“I think you’ve had enough,” I said kindly.
“Damn it!” she joked, slamming the counter. “I’ll tell you when I’ve had enough!”
I laughed, and then laughed again as my daughter collapsed into a fit of giggles. “Come on, darling,” I said standing up and offering my arm. “Let’s watch a movie together.”
“But what about dessert?” she whined—a familiar refrain, though not one I’d heard from her in almost a decade—and I smiled.
“We’ll have dessert after.”
“Kay,” she sighed agreeably, taking my arm and letting me guide her to the living-room.
The combination of heels and wine were a challenge, but we finally made it, collapsing happily onto the couch together. Just a few day earlier, Cherese had sat beside me on the couch, squeezing my thigh and trying to convince me to cheat on my wife with her.
Now, she was dressed in a bikini, as drunk as I’d ever seen her, and we were on a date together.
I smiled at my scantily-clad daughter. She was so beautiful. I loved her so much.
“What are we watching tonight, Daddy?” she asked with a giggle.
“A romantic comedy,” I said, smiling at her as I navigated the menus and started the film.
Her eyes widened. “Again?”
“I told you honey; tonight is for you. It’s all for you.”
Except, I admitted to myself, for the bikini and heels. Those were at least a little bit for me.
My daughter snuggled into me as the movie started, tensing up as I moved my hand to her thigh. Ignoring her reluctance, I took her hand and moved it to my own thigh.
“D-daddy...”
“Shhh,” I said, squeezing her smooth leg firmly. “Movie’s starting.”
I could feel my daughter shaking as she stared at the movie. Her breathing was shallow and quick; her hand never relaxed, awkwardly hovering over my leg as the two non-descript leads had their first encounter on the screen.
I wasn’t worried, however; I knew exactly what would make her feel better.
“Daddy!” Cherese gasped. “N-no.”
“Yes,” I said firmly, as I ran my hand across her soft stomach, before moving my hand down to rest lightly on the crotch of her bikini bottoms.
“Please,” she insisted. “I d-don’t want to...”
I shook my head.
“This is our third date, Cherese,” I reminded her. “You know what’s expected on a third date.”
“Yes,” she answered immediately, before shaking her head. “No...”
“You had it right the first time,” I smiled down at her, then leaned down to kiss her.
Cherese kept her eyes closed during our kiss. Her mouth remained firm and unyielding, and she moved her hand from my thigh to my chest, trying hopelessly to push me away.
I ignored her protests, and slowly slid my fingers under the waistband of her panties.
They were soaked through with her excitement, and I smiled. She was wetter than I’d expected.
“Daddy...” she whimpered, pulling away and opening her eyes in fear. “I can’t...I’m your daughter.“
“You’re my date,” I said again, staring her firmly in the eyes. As I spoke, my fingers slowly stroked her engorged pussy-lips, enjoying the warmth of them against my fingertips. “You’ve put out every date so far—on our first date, you jerked me off on a well-lit street, where anyone could see. Then you let me take you to make-out point; you got naked in the car for me, and begged to suck my cock.”
I slipped two fingers inside my daughter, enjoying her gasp as she felt my digits enter her. I slowly pulled back, then pushed forward again, sliding another finger inside Cherese as she trembled with pleasure.
“After our second date, you came into my room to suck my cock again. That night, you invited me into your room and let me jerk off over your naked body. Remember?”
Cherese nodded, staring at me as I fingered her. My thumb reached up to stroke her clit; she twitched at my touch, but never broke our intense eye contact.
“You’ve been nothing but a slut for me, and tonight is no different. It’s our third date, Cherese, and you showed up in a bikini and heels. We’re alone for the evening, I just cooked you dinner...”
“B-but I didn’t let you pay,” she gasped, and I laughed.
“Did you pay for the ingredients, darling? Or the wine?”
“N-no...”
“Did you even offer?” I pressed, moving my other hand off her thigh and up to her bikini-clad breasts. Her nipples were hard as diamonds, and when she didn’t answer my question, I pinched one roughly.
“No!” she gasped. “I-I’m sorry, Daddy...”
“It’s okay,” I said softly. “I’m happy to feed you. I want to provide for you.”
I smiled, my hand crudely groping at my daughter’s breasts.
“I love you, darling. I love you as much as I’ve ever loved anyone.”
Cherese trembled. My hand between her legs had never stopped pistoning in and out, my thumb expertly massaging her clit. I slowed down—if she came at my hands, she’d owe me a handjob.
“But this is a real date. A real third date. And that comes with expectations, doesn’t it?“
My daughter’s eyes were beginning to glaze over as she stared at me. I had three fingers inside her soaking wet pussy, and her hips bucked slightly each time my they plunged into her depths.
Cherese nodded, panting, her face contorted in a mixture of fear and ecstasy. She was pushing her chest out, trying to thrust her tits against my hand.
“You know what happens on the third date, right?” I asked again, and my daughter gasped in response.
“Say it,” I said, my voice firm and commanding. as I stroked her soft skin. “I want to hear you say it.”
There was a long pause as my fingers languidly penetrated her, my thumbs rubbing over her clit and nipple in perfect synchrony.
Finally, Cherese broke, her entire body collapsing as her mouth obediently told me what she knew I wanted to hear:
“O-on the third date, we...we have sex.”
“Again,” I ordered.
“On the third date,” she groaned, “we have sex. We do everything.”
“Everything?”
Her eyes flickered.
“Everything,” she confirmed. “I-I’m your slut, Daddy. Tonight, you own me. I’ll do anything.”
I smiled down at her, and she shuddered as she confidently repeated the last three words.
“I’ll do anything.”
* * *