Angela

My father and I were both terribly distraught when my mother passed away. Even though it was probably a release from her pain, we both missed her terribly. It was even more depressing for me when my father broke down and asked me to go through my mother’s effects. I wanted to keep everything, every memory, everything that she’d held dear in a vain attempt at keeping her with me when that was no longer possible. As I went through the myriad number of boxes, I found her diaries and I couldn’t resist starting to read them.

My mother had begun recording her most intimate thoughts right after she turned eighteen, and those diaries were an amazing revelation. I became fascinated as I read about all her sexual adventures. She met my father when she was between boyfriends during her sophomore year of college, and they fell hard and fast for each other. It didn’t take long for them to become intimate; she loved the size of his penis and what he could do with it. She wrote in vivid detail about how he pleased her with his fingers, his mouth, and his tongue. It was very obvious that he was an amazing lover and he got her there, as she put it, countless times whenever they had sex. She also graphically wrote of pleasing him, taking him into her mouth and her vagina.

Once they graduated and married, they were delighted when my mother became pregnant with me. She wrote of how it was the culmination of everything she had with him.

When she was in the middle of her eighth month of pregnancy with me, he became nervous about having sex, because he thought it would somehow hurt her. When they became bored with oral, my mother suggested they try something new. I guess he was hesitant at first, but he reluctantly agreed to try it. She convinced him it would be okay, and he bought lube and a butt plug. Over the course of a week or so, they experimented with a type of sex neither of them had previously engaged in. She wrote that he was patient and gentle with her as her body prepared to accommodate him, and that how large my father was in both length and girth always gave her pleasure that she hadn’t known with her previous lovers. She’d written graphic accounts of taking my father anally as she rubbed her clit, and how she always loved him coming inside her and the mind-blowing orgasms she reached. Even after I was born and it was safe for them to resume vaginal intercourse, they included this new type of sex in their repertoire.

While reading her diaries, I was also shocked to discover that some of their activities were decidedly not monogamous. As they experimented together, I learned that my mother loved to take my father in her vagina in addition to being filled with her butt plug. This led to her wanting to experience two men at once. When she brought this fantasy up with my father, he said if she was serious about wanting to try it, he’d let her. She never stated who the other man was, but she did say she thoroughly loved it and it was the start of something that they repeated multiple times. After I was born and they started seeing other men together, my mother resumed taking the pill, because they wanted to ensure that if she got pregnant again, the baby would be my father’s. Their only sadness was that my mother didn’t become pregnant again before being diagnosed with cancer.

It was one of her final diary entries that really got to me. I cried when I read how she had told my father I was turning into a beautiful young woman and he should consider letting me take care of him after she was gone. After I dried my tears, I made a solemn oath that I would take my mother’s place in his life and be there for him in every way.

I wasn’t a virgin when my mother passed away; I’d gone through that milestone right after I turned seventeen. I quickly discovered that I really liked those sensations. I started to have graphic fantasies and it didn’t take long for me to start experimenting with sex, but thoughts of what my father was like in bed were never far from my mind.

Even though I had vivid sexual fantasies, I was never a slut. When I had sex, he was my boyfriend and I had to feel comfortable and secure with him. Once that trust was established, I was open to slowly experimenting. I loved giving hand jobs and feeling my boyfriend’s fingers inside me. Each of my boyfriends wanted me to go down on him, and, after some initial hesitation, I finally took that big step. It was a little confusing to start, because I felt submissive in giving him what he wanted but also powerful being in control of his arousal. But gradually, the submissive part became more important to me, and I loved the taste of semen when he erupted into my mouth.

Eventually, my boyfriend at the time convinced me to celebrate his birthday by going all the way with him. I’d played sports and played with myself enough that I’d lost my hymen long ago, so sex the first time wasn’t that painful. Unfortunately, like most young women’s first time, it was a lot of nervous fumbling and far from satisfying. But the more I did it, the better it got, and as I became more comfortable with my body and my partner, reaching orgasm soon became very easy, and that only made me want it more.

The more I had sex and the better it got with my boyfriends, the more I thought of my mother’s wishes for me to be with my father. I knew we both needed time to grieve, but when I fantasized now I was thinking of him. After a few months passed, I began making subtle changes. I started wearing more skimpy clothes and swimsuits when I was around him, I snuggled up to him on the couch while we watched TV, and I turned my head at just the right moment so his good-night kisses landed on my lips instead of my cheek. But I soon realized that he was still not over my mother’s passing. He refused to find someone to date and he was obviously becoming frustrated by his lack of a sexual outlet. Since we’d just moved to Las Vegas, I’d had to end my relationship with my boyfriend, and I felt just as sexually needy as he did.

I finally decided to push the issue. After dinner one evening, I went to my room and undressed. I wanted to get his attention, but not in a blatant way. I slipped into a very short jean skirt and one of my smallest thongs. Then I chose a very tight T-shirt and decided against wearing a bra, so my C-cup breasts and small pink nipples pushed into the thin fabric. I didn’t need a bra for support, my breasts were firm and perky. I shook out my long blonde hair so it rested over my shoulders and then I walked barefoot into the living room, sashaying my hips as I moved. He looked up from his TV program and I felt his eyes subtly roaming over my body.

“Whatcha watching?” I asked.

“Ummm … some cop show.”

“Want some company?”

“Sure.”

I slid onto the couch next to him, ensuring that as much of my body was touching him as possible. “You can put your arm around me, I won’t bite,” I teased. Hesitantly, he wrapped his arm around me, and I snuggled up against him.

“I … ummm … loved dinner, you’re becoming quite a cook,” he said.

“I love taking care of you, cooking for you, cleaning, keeping the house up, just like Mom did.”

“You remind me so much of her, when we first met in college.”

“I know you miss her,” I said softly.

“We both do, honey.”

“Have you ever read her diaries?”

His eyes widened. “No, those were her private thoughts. She offered for me to read them, but I never took her up on it.”

“I have.”

“Lots of boring stuff?” he teased.

“No, but lots of personal things, about you, mostly.”

His facial expression changed and his face got tense. “What did she say about me?”

“You were both very adventurous, weren’t you?”

A little blush broke over his face. “Maybe,” he admitted.

I gently rubbed his thigh. “No maybe about it, you were. She loved being with you, you made her feel safe, you let her explore the things she loved.”

“I … I guess I did.”

“You make me feel safe, too,” I whispered.

He smiled. “I’m glad I do.”

It’s time to push things further. “Can I read something to you, something she wrote?”

It took him a few seconds to answer. “Okay.”

I lifted my bottom up off the couch and pulled out one of my Mom’s diaries from the back pocket of my skirt. I opened it to the page I had bookmarked. “This was one of her last entries.” I began reading:

“Angela is turning into such a beautiful, vibrant young woman. My biggest regret is that I’ll never see her grow and blossom like I know she will. I hope that when Tim is ready he’ll be willing to love her the way he’s always loved me. They both deserve that; she deserves to have the love of a good man and I can only hope that he has the courage to be everything she needs.”

There were tears in both of our eyes. My father took the diary from my hand and reread the passage a couple of times before he spoke. “She really wanted that?”

“Yes, she did.”

“What do you want, Angela?” he whispered.

“Just like you said, I cook, I clean, I take care of you, just like Mom wanted me to. I’m your wife …” I paused, then added, “… except for one thing.”

His expression turned to shock as he realized what I was suggesting. “Sweetheart, I love you, but you’re my daughter. I can’t let you take your mother’s place that way.”

I could feel his hesitancy and I knew I needed to push him just a little harder. “I see how you look at me, how you watch me, don’t you think I’ve noticed that?”

He blushed. “I … I didn’t mean to–”

“It makes me feel sexy, protected, wanted, when I see that look in your eyes.”

“Is this really what you want?” he whispered.

“Yes, it is,” I answered. Then I teased him. “I’m a virgin, Daddy, don’t you want to be my first?” Immediately his jaw dropped, and I burst out laughing. “You know I’ve had sex, but you could … you know … show me some new things.”

“I do know that,” he said quietly. “You told me when it happened, and you and I had several talks about sex after that.”

“So you know it happened a while ago,” I said calmly, “and you also know that wasn’t the only time I’ve had sex. I read Mom’s diaries, so I know you had a very active sex life with her, and you have to be missing that.”

“I am, of course I am,” he said miserably.

“Then let me take her place that way also,” I said as persuasively as I could. “Let me show you how much I’ve learned, how happy I can make you.”

“I’m not sure what else I can show you,” he said innocently.

I giggled. “Are you kidding me? Do you want me to read more of that diary to you? In today’s vernacular, you and Mom were freaks.”

He blushed again. “That was private information,” he said slowly, “and something that you should never have read.”

I gently rubbed his thigh. “No, it was … you know … very erotic.” I thought for a moment. “I have had some experiences, but I know that a woman has to trust the man she’s with to do everything you two did together. Mom had that with you, and I want it too.” For the first time that evening, I saw an erection straining my father’s pants, and I reached down and gently rubbed it. “Will you take me where you took her?” I asked seductively. I saw the look of lust etched on his face.

“Yes, I will,” he said huskily.

- - - - -

When we got to the bedroom, I turned to face my father. I tilted my head up and gently put my lips on his. After a few seconds, I put my hand behind his head to hold him in place, pressed my mouth harder against his, opened my mouth slightly, and slid my tongue across his lips before bringing it back. He tentatively extended his tongue to touch its tip to mine, and I encouraged him to continue that by moving my tongue around his.

After a minute or so, we broke the kiss; both of us were flushed and breathing a bit heavily. “That was very nice,” I said dreamily.

My Daddy looked a little shaken. “When did you learn to kiss like that?”

I had to chuckle. “A few months ago. Did you like it?”

He shook his head in chagrin. “Of course I liked it,” he admitted. “You’re so much like your mother, it’s a little disconcerting.”

“Don’t be scared,” I whispered. “This is what we both want.” I took his hand in mine and put it on my breast. Then I moved it for him, sliding it around my breast over my T-shirt and feeling my nipple stiffen at his gentle caress, which sent a tingle through my pussy.

“Are you really sure about this, sweetheart?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, I’m very sure, Tim,” I answered, carefully using his name so as not to remind him about the incest I hoped we were about to commit. “Please, make love with me.” I reached up and started to unbutton his shirt, and when he unbuckled his belt and let his pants fall to the floor, I knew I’d won him over. I just had to be patient and not spook him.

I looked up at him, and he smoothed my hair back and then softly stroked the side of my face. I silently stood in front of him as he gave me little kisses on my forehead, both cheeks, and then my lips. My breathing picked up a little when I felt his fingers lightly tracing along my arm and then across the tops of my breasts. His hand went to the hem of my T-shirt and he pulled it up over my head, and when it fell away, my father stared at my perky breasts and a look of awe broke over his face.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

“They’re yours now,” I whispered back, and he put his hands on them. I shivered when his palms pressed against my stiff nipples, and I felt my pussy moisten as my desire for him grew. I pushed his unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders; he let it fall, and I put my hands on his waist. When I started sliding his boxers down, he helped me, and his erection slapped against his belly when we freed it.

He had such a nice cock, bigger than any I’d taken before. His large, mushroom-shaped head was already dripping pre-cum and he had a nice, thick shaft. He quickly took off his shoes and socks, and then he put his arms around me and pressed my body against his in a tight hug. Further taking the lead, I quickly removed my skirt and then moved both of us onto the bed.

We lay side by side and he kissed me again, this time with serious intent. I immediately opened my lips and his tongue eased into my mouth. I returned his kiss fervently, and I thought, He won’t stop now, we’re going to do this.

My father rolled me onto my back and gently slid my thong down and off of me. I spread my legs, took his hand in mine, and directed it to my wet bare pussy. “Feel me,” I said huskily. “I’m so ready for you.”

He touched my outer lips, a feather-like caress, and when his finger rubbed against my swollen clit, bolts of electricity shot through my core. “You really are,” he said with wonder in his voice.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time, it’s all I could think about after I read Mom’s diaries.”

“You’re so much like her.”

“Then let me be her for you,” I answered breathlessly. “Please, Tim, make love to me.”

He moved between my legs, took his cock in his hand, and ran the tip through the lips of my vagina, splitting them. I put my hands on his shoulders and gently ran my fingertips over his muscled chest to encourage him, but he needed no urging. He eased himself forward and gently entered me. I was so wet he easily went into me even though he was so big.

“You feel so tight, it feels so good,” he murmured as he slowly moved his cock in and out.

I squeezed the muscles in my vagina, milking him. “It’s all for you,” I cooed. My nipples were hard and erect, and he slid his hands onto my breasts and squeezed them gently.

“Just a little faster,” I pleaded, and he answered without words. He tightened his hold on my breasts and pushed forward urgently, filling me with his entire length. Then he brought the head almost out of me before pushing all the way back in with a more fervent motion.

“Yes, just like that, you feel so good inside me,” I moaned. He put his hands on my shoulders for additional leverage and started pounding into me, his belly slapping against mine on every stroke. His thick cock was rubbing perfectly against my clit and I felt my orgasm begin to build. In that hot, erotic moment, I wanted to feel him coming deep inside me.

“Yes, keep going,” I moaned, “make me feel it.”...