Getting Dirty with Daddy


Sex content: M/F, incest (F/d), exhibitionism
WAM content: Water, mud, pies


I guess if I just told you my story, you would ask: why? Why did I go to such lengths to seduce my own father? And to be honest, I don't have a great answer to that question. Was it because my mother was really never in the picture? Because my dad is really handsome? Because none of the men my age appealed to me? The workings of the heart are a mystery.


I suppose every girl becomes infatuated with her father at some point, and then grows out of it. I just...didn't grow out of it. The beginnings of my lust are hazy, and the early years a bit tedious (he didn't know, and I never did anything except touch myself), so I'll just skip to when things finally came to a head. I was mid-way through my second year of college, still a virgin, and probably the horniest 19-year old on the planet. To save money, I was going to a college nearby and staying at home. So, yes, the object of my affection was right down the hall every night. And every night, I would rub my clit raw fantasizing about him. The temptation was unbearable! I was determined I would make him mine before I turned 20, but he seemed completely unattracted to me.


Why didn't my daddy want me? I had received plenty of attention from other men. Here's a poem a boy wrote me my first year in college. The title is "Emily the Beautiful":


"Hair of ebony
Skin of ivory
Eyes of sparkling green


Waist so slim
Bust so big
Most beautiful I've ever seen


Tall and graceful
Oh-so-sweet
Voice beyond compare


Can I ask you
Dare I ask you
Could we be a pair?"


Not exactly Neruda. I let him down gently (I told him I had feelings for someone else, but I didn't mention that the "someone else" happened to be my father). Lots of guys found my body sexy or desirable, but why didn't my daddy see those things in me?


It's not like I never tried to seduce daddy. You'd think a schoolgirl outfit, complete with a skirt that barely reached mid-thigh, would have any man's eyes glued to your body. But my father hardly took his gaze away from my face. It's like he still saw me as his little girl and not a harlot desperate for his cock! I made sure to bend over a lot, until I was *certain* he'd seen my panties, but he never said a word. Not even a reproach to dress more modestly. I'd get a thrill out of being called naughty by him, but I didn't even get that.


I upped the ante and chose even sluttier outfits. Crop tops without a bra, the shape of my nipples clearly visible: barely a glance at my chest. Low-rise jeans to show off my thong: no response. I even took to walking around the house in a sheer panties and bra, but he didn't even mention it. You'd think he could say "I can see your pubic hair" or "Your nipples are very pink". But the way he acted and talked to me, you'd think I was wearing a nun's habit. Frustrating!


Winter was turning to spring, but my father seemed as frigid as the polar icecaps. I had to figure out what made him tick, sexually. What I did next was kind of devious, but I'm not ashamed of it. Actually, I'm not ashamed of anything I did. Some people might frown on incest, but I think everything we did was beautiful.


The devious part: I decided to snoop on daddy's porn habits. Planning it turned out to be easy. Every night before bed, daddy would spend about an hour or so on his computer. Then he'd throw his clothes in the laundry before getting into pajamas and going to bed. That seemed like the most likely time to surf for some porn. All I had to do was wait for him to go to bed, and then peek at his browsing history.


The plan went like clockwork. Just to make sure, I checked the laundry room. I was pleasantly surprised by what I found. A pair of briefs, still warm from his body heat. And wet with semen, too. Oh, daddy! I scooped some up and rubbed it on my sex. The rest I sucked from the fabric as I masturbated furiously, lying in a bed of dirty laundry. Depraved, I know, but you have no idea how much I longed for my daddy's cum to be put inside me fresh from the source.


After a few orgasms, I came to my senses and returned to the task at hand. I now knew for sure that he had been looking at some porn. I just had to find out what kind. I tiptoed into his office and opened up his laptop. It needed a password. Shit! Fortunately, I managed to guess it before running out of attempts. The password turned out to be "iLoveEmily". What a sweetheart.


Now was the moment of truth. My worst fear: he used incognito mode. My greatest hope: he watched plenty of incest porn. The reality: somewhere in between.


The browsing history started fairly innocuously. Some pictures and videos of wet t-shirt contests. OK, men like boobs, that doesn't tell me much I don't know. Then, mud wrestling. Also pretty common. Then I saw a video of a woman getting hit with pies and fucked by a pair of clowns. Wow, did daddy have a clown fetish? I wasn't sure I could fulfill that. But then I saw more videos. Most were just of women being pied, with no clowns visible. Sometimes the women sat on cakes or had chocolate sauce poured on them. Water, mud...food? What could it all mean?


There were more websites in his history, some with stories instead of videos, but I didn't have time to read them. It was getting late. I made a mental note of some of the websites and decided to investigate more on my own. I closed the laptop and went to my room.


***


The following day was a haze of sordid research. Finally, I came to a conclusion: my father had a wet and messy fetish. I had never heard of that before--I had to do a lot of googling keywords before I finally found a wikipedia article that brought everything together. Getting turned on by mess seemed bizarre, but I had to admit that I did find some of the videos and stories arousing. Maybe the fetish was hereditary? It didn't matter. If getting wet and messy was the key to my daddy's heart (and cock), then I would get wet and messy.


My first chance came with spring break. Most of my classmates were going on vacation to beaches or resorts. I was spending the week at home with daddy. When he asked if I wanted to do anything, I suggested swimming at a lake a few hours' drive away. Of course, I "forgot" my swimsuit, and the location was too remote to buy one at the store, so I went swimming in just my white t-shirt (no bra) and cut-offs.  Well, somehow being wet made all the difference. All of a sudden my wholesome daddy was ogling my chest every chance he got. And judging by the front of his swimming trunks, he liked what he saw. (I certainly liked what I saw--daddy's cock looked absolutely huge!)


"What do you see, daddy?" I said to him. "What are you looking at?"


"Just making sure you aren't getting sunburned," he replied, trying not to blush.


"Good idea. Better put on more sunscreen. How about you do me, and then I do you?"


I saw the expression on his face. It must have been agony for him to rub my body down. I don't know how he resisted the temptation to rip my clothes off and fuck me right there on the dock. Then again, I don't how I resisted doing the same to him when it was my turn. I guess we both knew the other people there wouldn't be pleased. But we still managed to grope each other quite a bit as we applied the sunscreen. Was it necessary for me to rub sunscreen all the way up his thighs, even under his bathing suit? About as necessary as it was for him to go under my top and rub sunscreen on my nipples. Which he did, and all I had to do was to get totally wet in my clothes! 


I was sure we would consummate our lust soon, but just to seal the deal, I said that my cutoffs were weighing me down too much and took them off. Now I was just wearing a t-shirt and panties, both white cotton, soaking wet and completely transparent. Anyone at the lake that day got quite a show. The way my t-shirt clung to my body, I was as good as topless. I could feel that my panties were skintight and accentuating every curve of my ass. And looking down, I could see my dark pubic hair through the thin fabric. I was giving everyone at the lake an eyeful, but it was all for my daddy.


After swimming for a bit, we went back to the car. I hopped into the backseat. My father joined me. This was it, I thought. He'll pop my cherry in this car. We kissed, on the lips. My first kiss. My pussy was even wetter than my clothes.


There was a knock on the window. The mood was broken. We looked up, and there was someone holding my cutoffs. "Your, uh, girlfriend left these at the dock," he said.


"Oh, thanks," murmured my father. He handed me the cutoffs, and I put them on. "Can you believe he thought you were my girlfriend?" he said sheepishly. Then he got in the front seat and drove us home. By the time we got there, my clothes were completely dry. Maybe it was that, or maybe my father had had enough time to realize that what he was doing with his daughter was inappropriate, but my father's lust seemed to have completely vanished. We went inside, changed separately, and acted like nothing had happened. I had been cockblocked. But I was determined to try again.


***


My next chance came when I saw that there was a local obstacle race the next month. One of those races where you have to go through a lot of mud. I suggested it might be fun to run it as a father-daughter team, and my daddy agreed.


The race went well, and we finished near the front of the pack. We both keep in good shape. Daddy only got a little bit muddy, but I made sure I fell into every mud trap until I was plastered from head to toe. After we crossed the finish line, I suggested we walk on a forest path to "cool down", although I was secretly hoping things would get hot and heavy.


As soon as we were out of sight of the crowd, I stopped walking. "My clothes are so filthy. I think I even have mud in my panties."


"Let's take a look," said daddy, and he pulled down my shorts. God, it felt good to be undressed by my father! With my shorts around my knees, my panties were visible, saturated with mud. "You're a dirty girl. You ought to be spanked for getting your clothes so muddy."


My father had a look in his eyes I had never seen before (well, maybe at the lake). It was like he was hypnotized with lust by my messy state. I wasn't his little angel anymore. I was a filthy slut who needed to be disciplined and fucked.


"Punish me, daddy," I said, getting on all fours. "Punish me right here. Punish me *hard*." With each word of encouragement, I could see his cock growing in his mud-splattered pants.


Smack! His hand landed swiftly on my rear. I felt spray from my muddy panties on my back. My ass was in pain, but the rest of my body was quivering in pleasure.


"Hey! Are you looking for the barbecue?" It was a stranger's voice, a medium distance away.


"The, uh, what?" My father was confused. I realized someone had spotted us in the forest, but couldn't see me through the undergrowth.


"There's a post-race barbecue in the park near the finish line. Are you lost?"


"No, I'll find my way."


To my dismay, I could see daddy's erection wilting in his pants. I guess almost getting caught took the wind out of his sails. I heard the intruder trudging away. After a few moments, daddy said "You can get up now." I looked into his eyes. There was still love, but not the kind I wanted. He had snapped out of it, and he was just my father again. "Let's go the the barbecue."


***


Showering alone that night, I masturbated over and over, fantasizing about what might have been. In my mind's eye, I saw my daddy mounting me in that forest path and fucking me hard. I saw my bare breasts swaying and flinging droplets of mud. I saw my father's white semen dripping down my legs, contrasted against the brown mud. When I went to bed, my mind was buzzing with ideas of how to make my fantasies reality. A plan began to form in my mind. It would take preparation, but if I got the details right, it would be foolproof.


I went to sleep, tired, but assured of my future success. In my dreams that night, I was wearing a wedding dress. As I walked up the aisle, I saw daddy waiting for me at the altar. Instead of saying vows, he just emptied a bowl of chocolate syrup over me. I lay on the floor and spread my legs. Daddy took off my garter and tossed it to the crowd. Then he did the same for my panties. "You may now fuck the bride," the priest said to daddy, and he did.


I woke up, sweaty but well-rested. And then I got to work.


***


My father's birthday coincides with the last day of summer. All summer, I had laid the groundwork for my plan.


First, I had let daddy know that I was planning a special birthday dinner for him. I had surreptitiously bought what I needed and made plans. It was a scramble getting everything in order: the clothes, the food, and even the surreptitiously placed mirror.  Before I knew it, the day arrived.


We started things out by going out to a movie. I wore a midriff-baring crop top and microskirt combo. I was dressed like a slut, but daddy didn't seem to notice. During the movie, I put my arm around daddy, and he put his around me. He probably just thought it was an innocent sign of affection from his daughter. Little did he know what I had in store for him.


After the movie, we went back home for dinner. I made his favorite: steak. I also baked a special dessert. Before we sat down to eat, I changed. I wore a silk dress, light green to bring out the color in my eyes, pink silk panties underneath, and a garter belt with a pair of white stockings. It was slutty and classy at the same time. I also put on a pair of high heels. Lots of guys have a thing for women in heels. I didn't know if daddy did, but the heels were part of my plan.


Dinner went well. Daddy was smiling and laughing as I made conversation with him. Soon, it was time for dessert. "Did you make me a cake?" asked daddy.


"Presents first," I said, handing him a package. "I got you a new tie."


"Thank you, sweetheart."


"And another little surprise," I continued. I lifted my leg up and rested my foot on daddy's shoulder. He had a view directly up my dress and to the crotch of my panties. "Do you see it?"


"See--ah, what?" Daddy was getting flustered.


"The tattoo, silly!" I pointed to my inner thigh. In between the top of my stocking and the lacy trim of my panties, there was a tattoo in fancy cursive that said "Daddy's Little Girl". Daddy seemed distracted by something else. I wondered if the juices from my pussy had soaked through the crotch of my panties and made a wet spot visible to him. Even if he couldn't see my arousal, I was sure he could smell it. Hell, I could smell my own pussy. Sitting next to the love of my life, confident of my scheme to seduce him, the scent of my wet pussy had been wafting from between my legs all evening. I could barely resist the temptation to start pleasuring myself right there. I just hoped daddy felt an even stronger temptation soon. "Don't you like my tattoo, daddy? I got it two weeks ago. I got it just for you!"


"Oh, it's very, uh, sweet of you. Can we have cake now?"


"Birthday cakes are so cliche," I said, taking my leg off of daddy's shoulder. "So I made you something different. How about a birthday pie?"


"That's fine, sweetie." Daddy's face was red. I could see his inner struggle playing out in his expression. He was uncomfortable at seeing his daughter act in such a wanton manner, but also aroused by the thought of my sexuality. He was on the fence between embarrassment and lust. I was certain my next action would push him over the edge.


"Here's the pie, daddy!" I said as I approached the table. "Happy birthday to y---oh, no!" At that moment, I accidentally-on-purpose tripped in my high heels. I managed to get the pie onto the table, but I was unbalanced and face-planted right into it.


"Oh no!" I repeated, raising my cream-covered face to look at daddy. "What a mistake!" I was laying it on thick, but I didn't care. "This is so humiliating!"


"Emily!" My father's tone was harsh. He seemed almost angry. For an instant, I was worried that he saw through my plans and was outraged at my attempt to seduce him. But then I saw the love in his eyes. And the lust. I could almost see the gears moving in his head too. He was coming around to the idea of his daughter as a sexual--and sexually available--being. "Emily, you are so clumsy!"


"Oh, daddy, I'm sorry. I ruined your birthday! I wish I had something else to give you."


"There is something you can give me." Daddy stood and walked around the table towards me. He was playing along. This was a good sign. I looked up, and in the mirror I had hung on the kitchen wall, I could see him approaching me from behind. Perfect. I felt him lift up my dress and begin to tug at my panties.


"You want my panties for your birthday?" I said, playing innocent for a change.


"No, Emily, I want your pussy!"


"Oh, daddy, yes! My pussy can be your present! Take me right here, daddy! I want to give you my pussy!"


I moaned involuntarily as I felt daddy's cock enter my virgin pussy. I don't know if it's because we're related or not, but it felt like a perfect fit.


"Oh, daddy, yes, deflower me, mmm...yes, fuck me! Fuck your daughter with that big cock!" Now we were past any pretense of innocence.


"I don't want to fuck you," said daddy, and my heart almost stopped. "I want to make love to you."


"Yes, daddy, let's make love! I want to be your lover, now and forever. I love you!"


I felt daddy grab my shoulders to pull me onto him, his cock tenderly penetrating me deeper and deeper. He gently rocked me like that for what seemed like an eternity of bliss. As he did, he caressed me all over. He ran his fingers through my hair, stroked my neck, and reached down my dress to gently squeeze my breasts. We both smiled at our reflections in the mirror, reveling in our incestuous union. I arched my back, and as he pushed even deeper into me, daddy reached up my thigh and rubbed my clit. We came simultaneously, my quivering pussy capturing every drop of semen from his throbbing cock. We fell to the floor, exhausted, and daddy embraced me and kissed me on the lips, cream and all.


"Happy birthday, daddy."


***


All that was several years ago. Since then, daddy and I have been living like a married couple. Actually, we *are* a married couple. After I graduated from college, we moved to another state, and we managed to get a valid marriage. It's a long story, but basically we managed to do some maneuvering with the paperwork and found a loophole that allowed us to get married. Since then, we've lived a low-key lifestyle. We bought a relatively small house (only one bedroom), but it has everything we need: a swimming pool, a big kitchen for baking pies, and a yard that gets muddy whenever it rains.


We like to travel, but ever since the pandemic, we've been in lockdown, working from home. Of course, we enjoy each other's company, so we don't really mind. But sooner or later this virus will blow over and we'll venture out again.


So, why am I writing all this? Well, I guess it's a way to pass the time. And I'd just like to let everyone know in case one of you encounters us. Next time you see a man holding hands with a woman young enough to be his daughter, don't judge them or assume she's a gold-digger. She might actually *be* his daughter, and they could have a perfectly loving relationship. And if you see them buying an inordinate number of pies from the bakery, well, don't assume they'll be eating all of them.


The End