Dirty Daddy Stories
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Dirty Daddy Stories
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Preview — Daddy Reads A Dirty Bedtime Story While I Sit On His Lap
by Zehn Harlock
"Now the story begins with a girl the same age as you. She was very similar in fact except...honestly...she was not quite as pretty as you. She's still very pretty though, enough that as soon as the villagers saw her walking into the forest a dozen boys, and some men, offered to escort her through the scary woods. She laughed at them and pointed to the sharp stick she call
"Now the story begins with a girl the same age as you. She was very similar in fact except...honestly...she was not quite as pretty as you. She's still very pretty though, enough that as soon as the villagers saw her walking into the forest a dozen boys, and some men, offered to escort her through the scary woods. She laughed at them and pointed to the sharp stick she called a sword and said she could handle herself just fine. They protested, saying they heard of a wolf in the woods...saying he did things, obscene things to girls who went in alone." The sound of my father's voice, already slightly tinted with arousal sent shockwaves through my body. It was all I could do to resist sliding a hand between my legs. Instead, I squirmed and kept my hands above the covers like a good girl, but my leg motions distracted Daddy a little bit. He paused for a moment, stared at my blanket-covered thighs which I was grinding together. His pants were already bulging. Daddy shook his head and carried on, focusing on the story. "The girl laughed at them, saying it was just a fairy tale. She'd be perfectly safe, plus...her grandma lived in the forest and she sent letters almost every day. If her grandma was ok, and the mailman was ok...how could there be a problem? The boys couldn't argue with that logic and let her go into the forest." "Daddy?" "Yes, sweetheart?" he said looking at me from above the book. I slid the blankets off of me and turned to the side of the bed toward him, my long, naked legs dangled off the side to the floor. My father's eyes lingered on my thighs. "Can I sit on your lap while you read?"
...more
Published
November 28th 2017
by Zehn Harlock
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It’s happened again. I don’t know if it was a good or a bad thing…and at this point, I don’t care anymore. It’s starting to feel good for me. I can’t just summarize what He did…I have to give every gory detail about the occurrence. Call it venting. Call it therapy. I just need to let someone know so that it doesn’t devour my soul. Although my innocence has been taken from me, a part of me feels like I deserve it. But let me stop rambling on, and begin my story.
It happened a few days ago. Daddy had come home from the hospital. He had just had surgery on His right shoulder to correct it. He told me what He had gotten fixed, but I zoned out at all of the medical terms He had spewed at me. All I got was that there was a ball out, and that it had to be returned to the socket, whatever that means. He had been bed-ridden this whole time, with nothing but the T.V. and his pills to keep Him company. At the same time, spring break had started. I wanted to do normal things high school girls my age did: go to the mall, hang out with friends, go to the movies then talk about boys, etcetera. Unfortunately for me, that didn’t happen. Daddy wanted me to stay by His side so that I could take care of Him.
During this time, my mom was out of town for some psychiatric conference. She was always out of town, so I was used to this.
I was used to it. But I hated it. It meant being alone with Him.
Thinking back to that occurrence, I feel my stomach churning, and bile rising up my throat. Sadly, I also felt the core in between my legs tingling. It angers and shames me to think about it…but I know I have to finish this.
It was night, and I was making dinner for Daddy and myself. Nothing fancy, just something simple and out of the freezer. I’m not a very good cook, so I made something fool-proof. I was standing in the kitchen over the stove, stirring up some Bertolli pasta dinner, when I heard footsteps. It sounded clumsy, and I knew He was coming. He staggered into the dining area, which was attached to the kitchen, and sat down at the dinner table. Daddy looked a frightful mess. He was topless, only wearing a black, blue, and red checkered pajama pants. His short straight blond hair was tousled, slightly greasy; evidence that He hadn’t showered in a day or two. He hunched on the dinner table, took a deep breath, and exhaled sharply, His bandaged arm/shoulder moving as He breathed. His face looked tired, worn…He looked older and more fragile than I have ever seen Him. I almost felt sorry for Him.
I looked back down on the pasta I was cooking. The ice particles were starting to melt. It just needed to be covered and simmer for about ten minutes. I walked over to the dish washer, and bent over to pick up the lid for the frying pan. I then covered the pasta, and reduced the heat to medium-low. Afterwards, I walked over to my Daddy to see if I could make Him feel better. With Him being in this condition, I figured He should be safe.
Or so I believed…
I walked over to Him, and sat down next to Him on the dinner table. With my left hand, I caressed the side of His cheek, along with His strong jaw line. Daddy was a very handsome man. I could see how my mother fell in love with Him. He used to be so kind and gentle. He would never have been able to hurt even a bee. Looking at Him now, I missed the kind of man He used to be, and out of nowhere a memory popped up. I was about five years old. I ran home crying because some boys in the neighborhood didn’t want to play with me because I was a girl, and they kept teasing me that I had cooties. I ran to my Daddy. He carried me, and assured me that one day, boys like that will be chasing me to play with them. At the time, I didn’t know what He meant, but it felt good and comforting being in His arms. After I had calmed down, He carried me over to the piano, and played something while keeping me encapsulated in His arms. As He played, I drifted off to sleep. After time had passed, He carried me to my room, and tucked me into bed. He kissed my forehead, and told me that I was His favorite little girl, and that He would always love me, even if boys made me cry. I fell asleep almost immediately, wishing that one day, I would meet a boy like my Daddy.
Looking at Him from the dinner table, I felt pain envelop my heart. I miss the man who once promised that He would love me even if boys made me cry. I missed the man who wiped my tears, and held me in His arms as He played beautiful music on our vintage Steinbeck, with me falling asleep. I missed my Daddy. Thinking of the man who disappeared only to be replaced by this monster brought tears in my eyes. I dropped my hand from His face, stood up, and walked over to the stove. I pulled the lid off of the frying pan to look at my cooking, and noticed that although all the ice had melted, the sauce for the pasta hadn’t thickened yet. I increased the heat to medium, and placed the lid back on. As I stepped back away from the stove, I bumped into something behind me. Grateful that I wasn’t carrying anything that would have ended being dropped on the floor, I turned around and came face to face with my Daddy’s bare chest. I looked up, and saw a look in His eyes that I had seen only twice before.
Startled, I looked away, and held my hand over my chest to calm the beating of my surprised heart. Daddy then placed a finger underneath my chin, and urged me to look up into His eyes. It was The Look. That look frightened me. I can’t describe it, but it looked animalistic, almost predatory-like. It was as if He was on the hunt, and He had caught His prey. I wanted to move away, but I knew that if I backed away from Him, I would end up burning myself from the stove. So I stood still, and stared back into His eyes. They had transformed from warm, inviting blue to almost glacial. Cold chills ran up and down my spine. It was going to happen again, and I knew it. This is hard for me to admit, but a part of me wanted it to happen.
Daddy pulled my face towards His, and kissed me. It wasn’t a soft, fatherly kiss. It was hungry, lustful, and primal. He forced my mouth open to receive His tongue. I wanted to fight Him, but my body responded to His touch. The moment His tongue touched mine, I melted in His arms. Daddy took His hand away from under my chin, and wrapped it around my waist. He held me steady as His tongue darted in and out of my mouth, slowly twisting and dancing with my tongue. This was wrong, and I knew it in my mind. My Daddy had raped me, and stole my virginity, and He was going to defile me again tonight! But for whatever reason, all common sense left me as His tongue ravaged my mouth. I stood there as limp as a raggedy doll, only being held up by His good arm.
Slowly, Daddy pulled His lips from mine, but I h
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