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Introduction:

Heyyy! This is my first story, I hope you like it =D

My dad’s life has always intrigued me. Born as a trailer park boy with no chance of making it in the real world, he married into one of the wealthiest of families in the country. I find it truly impressive how quickly he must have changed, for from my oldest memories, he’s been a great father. Loving when he could, strict when he had to. It was impossible for young me to reach him, and he barely ever showed any compassion, but I could feel his love, even though he didn’t say it with so many words.

When the divorce came to a conclusion, my mom took everything from him. The money, which was hers to begin with, the house, and custody over Adam and myself. Dad moved down to his old town, where his family and friends still lived the life he had managed to escape against all odds. There, in the very trailer his parents died in, he was finally able to let go free himself from the role he had been playing for such a long time, and be his true self: a stubborn, self-loathing lowlife, who drank a lot, hid every feeling he felt, and barely ever smiled.

And yet, I loved to go down south and visit him. Almost as much as for him, for me it too was a great relief of all the uptown pressure. Nobody asked how I was doing in school, whether I had found a rich man yet, or who I was bringing to yet another high society party. The only thing my very protective dad cared much about, was seeing to it that I wasn’t wearing too sexy outfits - something every young adult, including me, saw as an opportunity to test their parents. I wore shorter shorts and tighter tops every time I visited, I teased every boy and man in town with my evolving body, and deliberately left tiny pieces of underwear all over the trailer. I knew my dad hated it, but he seemed to grow into it, and eventually stopped mentioning my lack of decency altogether.

Just after I had turned nineteen, I packed my bags for an entire summer vacation at the trailer park. Mom went on a long cruise with a friend, Adam had moved in with his fiancée. It was either being stuck in our massive, boring house, or take a long time off and explore that other side of me, the side that hadn’t come out all that much yet.

Dad wasn’t overly happy with my long stay at first. I could tell he felt restricted, not being able to do whatever he wanted, something he had gotten used to over the past months. I quickly managed to calm him down, however. I would not mention his drinking, I would even join him. If he ever decided to have company, I would sleep outside, in the open. He never had any company, though, and so complying to my own rules was fairly easy.

But I quickly got bored. Internet connection was instable, to say the least, and the people around my age were either desperately trying to get in my panties, or were too stupid to even try. Whole days I spent watching daytime television, watching the farmers work, or getting hammered, sometimes with dad, often alone. This went on for two full weeks, until I found another pastime, one that proved to be all around me all along. There was so much sexual tension in this small town, tension that was released every now and again, without holding back. Neighbors were fucking each other’s brains out in broad daylight, sometimes not even inthe safety of their own trailer, or at least not with either the doors or curtains closed. I received hand-written letters, with undisguised explanations of acts I didn’t even know existed. All of this threw a brand-new hobby right into my lap, and I succumbed to masturbation - a lot of masturbation.

I quickly learned that this hobby was the only thing that kept the people here from going insane, and once I had opened my mind to it, I noticed it was everywhere. The color of underwear on the washing line was an elaborate way of coding messages. Peeking through people’s windows at night was not only accepted, it was encouraged. And so when I had set aside all shame inside me and rubbed one out on the porch, with the neighbor watching from his lazy chair, I knew that this was the way I would survive the rest of my vacation.

I played with myself for hours on end, on my own or while gazed at not-so-coincidental passers-by. I grew addicted to the feeling of desperately wanting to finish, but not letting myself, and just as much to exploding multiple times in a row without barely taking a breather. The trailer floor was covered in panties and bras, and I never wore any of them. For the first few days, I tried to keep some of my dignity inside the trailer, when my dad was around, but soon, I brought pleasure to my body when my dad had fallen asleep, or while he cooked us a basic meal.

It was only a matter of time before I couldn’t keep my secrets secret any more. The first time things went south, I was lying on the trailer floor, fully naked, knowing my dad was just outside the door. When he came in and caught me performing a teasing routine, he wasn’t as stunned about it as I may have assumed he would be. Surely, he used the name of the Lord in vain to express the size of the shock I had given him, but he must have known it was inevitable for me to Alice into the park’s greasy rabbit hole. And so when I met him outside moments after I had finished, he didn’t so much as flinch. His carefully picked words didn’t go anywhere beyond I hope you was having fun.

And so this barrier had been broken, too. Not only had my dad seen me masturbate, he had also given me his blessing, and by doing so, invited me to do a lot more of it. Without having to worry about any consequences, I crashed into a state of permanent arousal. Most people back in the city would have despised me for it, but my dad seemed more or less okay with my escapades, whether he saw them or not. It therefore did not come as a surprise to me that, a few days later, when I stepped into the trailer, my dad, unbeknownst of my arrival, was jerking himself off, too. I watched him in total silence, and waited for him to finish before revealing my presence.

- Seems only fair I got to see that, too, I said.

And with his twitching dick still in his hands, he replied:

- Seems so, seems so.

Three weeks in, and with another line crossed, the need to hide our sexuality diminished even more. Multiple times a day, we walked in on each other, either deliberately or by accident. I could easily tell he liked watching me, and I loved the sight of him ruining his sheets, too. When I walked in on him yet another time, just after he had started - he was still wearing his shorts, but it was obvious what was about to unfold -, I let the booze get the better of me. I walked down to his bed, climbed on it, and leaned my back against the wall opposite of his pillow. There, I slipped out of my shorts, threw them on the floor, and started playing with myself. Dad was stunned for a moment, but he too was drunk enough to consider the wrongness of it all. We played, alone but together, until we reached a mutual orgasm. Both of us killed every possible feeling of awkwardness, and when we had put our clothes back on, things were back to perfect normality. And yet we both knew there was only one step up after this - and neither one of us seemed too hesitant to go there.

I wouldn’t give him the easiest time, however. Although inevitable, I saw it as my duty to make it impossible not to go down the road we had been on for so long already. But I knew he had to be the one to take the final step, and that I had to trick him into doing so. I barely wore any clothes any more, and waited for him to come home before starting my solo sessions. He watched my every position, every orgasm, and often couldn’t resist returning the favor. I got a good feel of what he liked, and what he would like when we’d be together. I started to touch him, a lot. Random hugs, with my naked body pressed against him. My feet up his legs while watching the game. And then, only days after our first playtime together, he snapped.

It was late at night, I had just come home from one of my scarce walks around the park. Dad was in bed, I could see his clothes lying on the floor.

- Becs, he said, come here for a bit.

His voice was low, he was drunk, more than usual. I grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge and kicked one leg over his covered body, sitting down on his upper legs.

- Yes, daddy? I said in my girliest voice. If there was still any doubt left in his brain, I figured, this would take it away for good.

- Would you help me to get rid of the blanket?

I lifted my body, pulled the light fabric out from in between our bodies, and sat back down. His dick was pointing at the painting above his head, twitching as if it had a life of its own.

- Can I touch it? I asked.

He nodded, but I had already took hold of it. It was warm, sturdy, almost unbreakable, but soft and smooth nonetheless. I gently pulled it towards me and stroked it, carefully, slowly, pretending I wasn’t sure what I was doing. He was looking straight at me: clearly, he had accepted our fate, and was ready to explain to Jesus himself that he could not have let this slip away, no matter how hard he tried. I shuffled closer to his face, burying the tip of his dick under my top. After unbuttoning my shorts and lowering the zip as far as possible, I turned my hips and stroked his shaft with my moist lips. He nodded. I shook my head. He whispered: - Yes. I whispered: - This is wrong.

- Don’t you want it? he asked.

- I do, but... I paused, even though I wanted to scream my answer for the whole park to hear. - I do.

It was the cue he needed. He got up and pushed me to the side, stepped off the bed, and pulled me towards him. His strong hands yanked my shorts down to my thighs, never had I felt so vulnerable in my entire life.

- Daddy, I said as I looked back, Daddy, wait!

But he didn’t wait.

- I’ve been waiting for nineteen damn years, he whispered in my ear as he bent over me, and at the same time, I felt his large, straight dick enter my hole. He paused for a moment, pushed himself up against my arched back, and started fucking me.

It was heavenly. I came as soon as his groin hit my butt, and I couldn’t stop orgasming. Every thrust invoked a new climax, every slap of his hand made me scream with pleasure. I dropped the act I had been working for weeks. The careless girl morphed into a limitless vixen, the weak teenager turned into a woman. Becs turned into Rebecca.

- Fuck me, daddy! I screamed over and over, in between orgasms and straight through them. Picked me up, turned me around and slammed my body into the fridge, before filling my insides up with his cock once more. I couldn’t bring myself to kissing him, but I bit every patch of skin in range, and buried my nails deep into his back. I had been fucked before, as roughly as the human body can take, but never had anything in my life been as intense as this moment. Dad fucked me into more and more orgasms, and just as I thought he’d be getting close too, he slid out. He ripped my top in half, yanked my shorts down from my thighs and threw me onto the bed. My legs instantaneously grabbed his body as he leaned over me and stuffed his dick back inside me. I had never called him “daddy” ever since I was a little girl, but I couldn’t stop whispering, shouting, screaming that one word. Every single person in the park must have been able to hear it: Daddy! Daddy! Yes daddy, please daddy, I’m coming daddy, please, come with me!

I couldn’t help but wonder if mom had ever heard him grunt like he did when he came. Big waves of cum hit my insides, he kept fucking me until my orgasmic motions had squeezed every last drop out. When he rolled off, and his dick left my body, I eased down. We lied there for a while, in silence, trying to come up with words. I was the first to find them, and they were more true than anything I had ever said before, or have since.

- Daddy, what the fuck did you just do?

Dad laid his hand on my belly and rubbed his seed all over my lips.

- I did what I should have done a long time ago, baby girl.

Dad has never seen me naked since. I barely waited until morning to pack my bags and leave. During my long drive, during my two weeks alone at home, I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened.

And even up until now, not a day goes by where I don’t think about it. About that day at the trailer park. The day my dad fucked his daughter. The day daddy fucked his baby girl.

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