Dating my Daughter
by Pan
Epilogue
In this case, Cherese was right. By the time the rest of my family came home, I’d taken my daughter three more times. Twice more, I’d filled her tight pussy with my cock; once more, her ass. And in between, our hands and mouths had spent hours exploring each other’s bodies.
It was a dream come true. My little girl’s asshole felt so good around my cock. Her pussy tasted better than I imagined. And her face as I pounded her to orgasm after orgasm...I’d never seen anything like it.
My beautiful little girl had become an insatiable sex-monster.
But, like all dreams, it had to come to an end. It was time to wake up, and return to the real world.
Underslept and overstimulated, Cherese hadn’t taken it well when I’d told her we had to stop.
“Why, Daddy?” she whined. “Why do we have to stop?”
“I’m married, darling,” I reminded her. “To your mother. Those vows meant something to me.”
“And I don’t??” she cried, tears rolling down her face.
I sighed. My daughter was weary, stressed, and overtired—and probably still a little drunk. I outstretched my arms invitingly; after a moment’s hesitation, she wrapped her arms around my neck, burying her head in my chest.
I held her close for a few moments, feeling her tremble against me. “It’s okay, baby,” I whispered in her ear, gently running my hands up and down her back. “It’s okay. Daddy’s here. Daddy’s got you.”
It was several minute before I felt my daughter’s shaking subside, and when she pulled away, there were no more tears to shed. Instead, she gave me a small smile and a nod, as if to say she understood.
“I love you, honey,” I said warmly.
“I love you too, Daddy,” she replied with a gentle sob. “I want to keep fucking you. Can’t I keep fucking you forever?”
A part of me was certainly tempted; I’d be lying if I claimed otherwise. But I’d been happily married for decades, and no matter how much I loved my daughter—and how good the sex was—I couldn’t just abandon that.
“I’m sorry, Cherie,” I sighed sadly. “It’s the end of the line. This—our date...it’s done. It has to end.”
“No!” she gasped, wrapping her legs around my waist as I tried to pull away from her. “Daddy, please! Please cum inside my ass again.”
“Baby, it’s not going to happen,” I insisted. “You know it can’t.”
I took her by the shoulders and forced her to face me. She stared into my eyes.
“You’re so beautiful,” I said, running my hands up and down my daughter’s body. “So sexy. So perfect.”
“Then why...”
My stare intensified, and Cherese trailed off.
I was so sorely tempted, but I knew what was right. My marriage to Cherese’s mother had lasted over twenty years, and it wasn’t ending tonight.
“I love your mother,” I reminded her. “How many of your friend’s parents can say that?”
She smiled at my words, but her eyes remained sad.
“It’s been amazing,” I said, and we both knew that was an understatement. “But it ends now.”
With a sigh, I ordered to my daughter to go upstairs and get dressed. After a glimmer of resistance, she nodded.
“Yes, Daddy.”
When my wife got home, Cherese and I were both dressed in around-the-house clothes; I was in jeans, and she wore a simple blouse and a skirt. I say simple—with my daughter’s body, practically anything she wore was enough to draw the attention of every man who saw her, including me.
No—now that I’d seen what that body was capable of, especially me.
The skirt wasn’t even particularly short, but I’d just spent almost a full day naked with my daughter, so I couldn’t help but imagine what was under it. Her firm bubble butt, her constantly-wet pussy. The top had a deep V between her breasts and a couple buttons undone, causing her huge tits to practically spill out. Even through the bra I could tell that Cherese’s nipples were hard, and my hands twitched to tear the entire outfit off her.
Despite the full-day workout my daughter had put my cock through, I still felt myself harden at the sight of her slutty little outfit.
My wife was just as exhausted as I was; while I’d spent the day teaching my daughter about sex, she’d spent the last few hours driving...and the night before with her family, definitely not something I envied.
I’d love to say that was the end of my story. That Cherese accepted her lessons were over and went off to college with an appreciation of everything her old man had taught her about dating.
But, of course, things are never that simple.
The next day, she was in my room as soon as my wife had gone downstairs to make breakfast. Despite it only being eight am—on a Sunday, at that—Cherese was already dressed up.
She looked stunning. Her long brown hair cascaded over the shoulders of her blouse, which she wore open to show off her cleavage. She had on a black skirt and heels, and she was leaning against the doorway with one arm crossed across her chest, looking as appealing as ever.
My daughter didn’t bother with small-talk. Once she knew I was awake, she’d crossed the room to kneel beside my bed.
“Daddy, I have a question for you.”
I sat up slowly, groaning at the erotic sight in front of me.
“What’s that?” I grumbled.
“You said that this—our dates, our time together...it has to end. But I was thinking...what if there’s more I need to learn?”
“Then you can do some online research,” I said flatly. “Or find a boyfriend your own age.”
“I don’t want a boy,” she replied immediately. “You’ve shown me how much better it is to learn from a man...“
She trailed off, her eyes wandering down my body.
“No,” I said flatly. “You know this is it. It has to be, honey.”
“But Daddy,” she moaned softly, “it’s been so great. Don’t you miss being inside of me? Don’t you miss fucking your daughter...”
“Language,” I warned. While Cherese had been in the heat of passion, I’d too-often let her language slide, and now it seemed I was paying the price.
“So punish me,” she begged. “Please, Daddy. Punish your little slut. Spank me until I’m dripping wet, then take my ass with your big, huge...”
I held up one hand.
“No means no,” I warned my daughter, but she (perhaps unsurprisingly) ignored me.
“Please, Daddy!” she cried. “Don’t stop! Please. I need it. I need you to fuck my asshole with that fat cock of yours. I’ll do whatever you want. Just keep fucking me.”
I sighed. My daughter was so beautiful, but she could be such a little brat sometimes. Youth gave her many advantages, but she was yet to learn self-control.
“Look at yourself, Cherese,” I told her sternly. “Your mother’s going to walk in here any second and what do you think she’ll see? Her daughter, on her knees, begging like a whore. Is that who you are?”
“Yes,” my daughter replied, a tear rolling down her cheek. “Yes, Daddy. For you...that’s exactly what I am. I’m your whore. I’m your naughty little slut.”
A part of me wanted to grab her by the hair and force myself into that tight, hot pussy of hers. But more than that—more than anything—I wanted to be the best father I could be, and that meant doing what was right for my daughter.
And so, I slapped her across the face.
Not hard enough to leave a mark, just enough to shock her out of her tears.
“Get up,” I ordered, as she looked at me, stunned. I wasn’t looking her in the eyes, of course; my gaze was on her nose, but I could see how much my response had shocked her. “Get up and get ahold of yourself.”
She stood, wiping her tears away.
“You need to be better than this,” I insisted, my eyes focused on the floor. “You are better than this, sweetie. You have your entire life ahead of you. This is just one small facet of it. Don’t be sad that it’s ending; be glad that it happened at all.”
Cherese looked at me with a smile.
“I just thought maybe we could do it again sometime. Maybe a lot of times.”
I couldn’t help but smile back. She was more stubborn than any other creature on God’s green earth. I reached out and stroked her cheek gently.
“That’s all she wrote, baby. We’re...we’re never going to do that again.”
Perhaps it was the sadness in my voice that convinced her, but I could sense a shift in my daughter’s energy. She nodded.
“Okay,” she said softly. “I understand. It was…fun, though. I’ll never forget it.”
“Me neither,” I said honestly. How could any man forget three perfect dates with his perfect daughter?
“Thank you, Daddy. I love you.”
She leaned forward, kissing me on the lips. Her tongue slipped between my lips as she kissed me deeply. When she pulled back, her smile was gone, replaced by a look of earnestness. “Can I ask you one last thing, Daddy? One more question, please?”
“Anything, Cherie,” I promised.
“What’s titty-fucking like?” she asked, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Out!”
It wasn’t the last time, of course. Later that afternoon, Cherese came into my office wearing nothing but one of my t-shirts (and yes, I mean nothing else) and begged me to touch her, promising to be a perfect housewife if I’d just let her pleasure me. That night, she slipped into the shower with me, pressing her naked, curvy body against mine and wrapping her hand around my cock. I let her stroke me for an embarrassingly long time before realizing that she wasn’t her mother.
My daughter truly was incorrigible; every day that week, she’d enter my room or my study dressed in a sexy outfit, her tits spilling from an open blouse, her skirt riding high on her thighs.
“Daddy, I want you,” she’d beg. “Please fuck me.”
Cherese would tell me how much her holes missed me, how much she wanted to feel my big dick inside of her. I’d refuse her, and she’d do everything she could to persuade me, crying and begging and promising me anything I desired.
“I just want you to move on,” I told her firmly, doing all I could to ignore her pleas, ordering her to leave. “Find a boyfriend your own age,” I’d say. “This isn’t appropriate. I’m your father..”
And then she’d kiss me, whispering in my ear, telling me that I was wrong, and that she loved me so much, and that she could bring me pleasures that my wife never could.
She was right, of course. No matter how much I loved her mother—and I truly did love her—I knew that her body couldn’t hold a candle to Cherese’s.
But that didn’t matter. I had made a vow, and my daughter had her entire life in front of her. No mater how much both of us may have wanted it, I knew that I had to do the right thing.
For both of us.
I was almost tempted to look Cherese in the eyes and make her stop, but I resisted. I knew that she’d stop on her own.
Sure enough after a full week had passed, my daughter finally stopped getting me alone and begging. Instead, she just started giving me baleful looks from across the room...but before long, those faded away as well.
Instead, she started looking at me with confusion. Then fear. Her choice of outfits changed, too, and (somewhat to my relief) Cherese started covering up more and more of her skin.
Finally, dressed as modestly as a nun, Cherese began glaring at me with what I can only describe as hatred.
I ignored her, of course. Teenagers change their attitudes on a dime; I knew it was just another phase she’d get over, like the few weeks she’d spent insisting she was genderqueer and asking that we call her “Cher”.
Three weeks after our final date (just a few days before Cherese was due to go to college), I heard my wife’s voice from upstairs.
“Honey!” she cried out, her voice strained. “Darling, can you come up here?”
I made my way up the stairs, smiling at the sound of my daughter’s protestations. Women can be so dramatic sometimes.
My wife was sitting on the bed. Cherese, who looked absolutely terrified at the sight of me, was standing in front of her.
“What happened?”
“Honey,” my wife said, her voice thick. “It’s…”
She turned her attention to our daughter, who was refusing to look at me.
”Come on, baby,” she prompted. “Tell your father what you just told me.”
Cherese’s eyes flitted back and forth between me and her mother. For the first time in weeks, my gaze met my daughter’s face. I looked away immediately, before she could lose herself in my eyes.
That glance, brief as it was, seemed to make all the difference. After a brief, defiant pause, her shoulders slumped.
“...I’m pregnant,” my daughter muttered, breaking eye contact and staring at the floor.
My eyebrows shot up.
“What??”
“I’m pregnant,” Cherese said to her feet.
“And she won’t tell me whose it is,” my wife huffed. “And here I was thinking you were teaching her something about protection on these dates.”
The thought of my daughter being impregnated by some stranger made me sick to my stomach. “How far along are you?” I asked, and Cherese flushed.
“A bit over three weeks,” she said firmly, and my forehead furrowed as I did the math.
That was when she’d been grounded. But we’d been so careful. We’d always used a condom on our last date, and...
Oh, no.
A memory flitted into my head; the day after our penultimate date. Me, in my daughter’s room, cumming on her bare skin.
Cherese, scooping my cum into her mouth, then moving her hand between her legs.
Her cum-covered hand, touching her bare pussy. Penetrating herself. Moving my fresh semen between her legs, where it could wriggle its way up her Fallopian tubes, and…
Well, and do what women were born to do.
My daughter hadn’t gotten pregnant from our coitus. I’d impregnated her while she’d been “returning the favor”. It was a million-to-one chance...but, sure enough, she was just as fertile as her mother.
I let out a long, heavy sigh.
“Well,” I said grimly. “There goes college.”
“No!” Cherese exclaimed, her eyes widening. My wife nodded.
“I’m sorry, darling, but your father’s right. You’ll have to stay here so we can take care of you. And the baby.”
I smiled at the sound of warmth in her voice. My wife loved babies; I knew that she was going to take care of Cherese’s child as if it was her own.
“Maybe there are other options...” my daughter pleaded, but her mother and I both shook our heads.
“I’m sorry, darling,” I said firmly. “But you need to learn to take responsibility for your actions. You got yourself into this; you’ve created a life, and you’re going to take care of it.”
Cherese’s eyes flared at my words. “Did I, Daddy?” she spat. “Did I get myself into this?”
“Of course you did,” my wife replied, and I nodded.
“No one made you do anything you didn’t want to do.”
My daughter fell silent, a sullen look on her face. For the next few minutes her mother and I continued planning; discussing how much of her tuition fee we could get back, whether the family health plan included hospital births. Cherese just stood there, arms folded, snapping one-word answers whenever we’d need them.
“Oh, this will be nice,” my wife sighed, and my daughter stared at her disbelievingly. “Honey, I was really going to miss you when you went away.”
I nodded. My eyes were on my daughter’s covered stomach. It was so easy to imagine what it would look like distended, full of child. My baby was having a baby. My cock stiffened in my pants as I imagined it: Cherese’s already large tits, filling with milk, her belly swelling outwards until her waist disappeared entirely.
“It’s not fair,” my daughter said, and my wife looked up at the sob in her voice. “Mom, I was going to have a life. I was going to live my dream! And now...”
“Oh, honey,” my wife said gently. “This is just a different kind of dream.”
“Not mine,” Cherese cried.
“We know, sweetie,” my wife said soothingly. “But I promise, it won’t be as bad as you think. Will it, darling?”
I blinked twice. I’d been lost in fantasies of my daughter’s naked, pregnant body, on her knees in front of me, begging me to take her again and again and again.
“Of course not,” I said, stepping forward to rest my hand on my daughter’s stomach. She flinched at my touch, but I ignored her. There was nothing to feel, not yet, but soon it would be a baby bump, then a little round tummy, and finally...
A child.
And why stop at one? That was why we’d had Rick, after all. All children should have a sibling, and my daughter’s daughter was no exception.
Yes, two made much more sense than one. At least two.
My wife would be so happy; a house full of babies for years to come.
“You’ll love being a mom,” I told her, and my daughter’s face twisted in anger.
“Oh, it’ll be nice to keep the whole family together,” my wife sighed happily. “Although...”
I shot my wife a look. “What?”
“Well,” she admitted. “I was really growing to love having that time to myself on Friday nights. Perhaps you two could keep having those adorable little Daddy-daughter dates, since Cherese is going to be around anyway.”
I smiled at my wife. “What a lovely idea. Don’t you think, Cherese?”
“No!” my daughter exclaimed, before her eyes met mine in a look of sheer terror. None of us said anything for several moments, as my eyes bore into Cherese’s.
Finally, after almost a minute of prolonged eye contact, my daughter’s shoulders slumped in resignation.
“Then it’s settled,” my wife said with a clap of her hands. “Friday night is date night.”
“Only if Cherese wants to,” I said, continuing to stare into the newly pregnant teenager’s eyes. “In fact, just to make sure…maybe she should beg.”
There was a long silence, until my daughter’s voice sobbingly broke it.
“P-please, Daddy,” she said. “Please?”
* * *