Erotic Daddy Stories
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Erotic Daddy Stories
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Daddy-daughter Confessions
Daddy-daughter confession stories and sins
Confession Stories
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I'm turning 24 next month.
My stepfather and his best friend got me drunk last night and ended up having sex with me.
Since they made a video of the entire thing, I saw that it wasn't rape.
I actually instigated it by stripping down to my panties and teasing them both.
I know I'm looking like the world's largest asshole and a bitch.
But something inside me is telling me that it was wrong.
I told my mom and even showed her the video.
She laughed it off saying boys will be boys.
She also kept telling me that maybe deep down inside me, there was some kind of a fantasy.
She wasn't concerned about it, especially since he's not really my father.
She added that I could do much worse.
I don't know what to feel.
Especially since, I've caught myself watching last night's video constantly.
Is something wrong with me?
you had fun, your mom was okay with it, you didn't do anything bad, love the moment and embrace it
its okay
Well I can't see that you did anything wrong, but I can't say the same about your family. When you showed your mum the video the whole thing could have blown up in your face. In fact that would have been the more natural reaction. For your mum to think it is funny that her husband and his friend had sex with her drunk daughter and made a video of it is kind of weird. She was obviously in on it.
Nothing illegal and no one got hurt. Live it up girl. Hell, I'd love to have a step daughter like you lol
You didn't do anything wrong. Life is full of experiences, some can feel questionable after, but if nobody else has an issue, the you shouldn't. As far as watching the video over and over, you are probably just subconsciously turned on by it. Just go with it. No shame or guilt. Life is too short
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No! Nothing is wrong with you! And if your mom is ok with it, you should be too!
Sounds like a perfectly natural enjoyment of a moment. I think you should enjoy and have fun as it seems to fascinate you, do it again often :-)
Fuck them again and you will feel better
I did every time my dad fucked my brains out
Okay, first off. What the fuck is wrong with people in this comment section. You guys have problems, ya need to see a shrink for cause Holy shit.
Second off, no you did nothing wrong. But that doesn't make this situation okay. Now it's been quite a while since you posted and it may already be too late. But if there is something deep down inside you saying that something is wrong, that's your gut feeling and you should always follow it.
Your Step-father and his friend took advantage of you while you were drunk. Sure you instigated it but it doesn't mean he should have acted on it, much less even taken a video on it. Jesus, this is messed up on so many levels. And your mom trying to justify it is just the cherry on the top of all red flags that should be going off in your head.
THIS. ISN'T. RIGHT.
Nothing like this just randomly happens. Hell I wouldn't be surprised if they put something in your drink to make you feel this way. If you didn't remember what happened. Then you were too intoxicated to give consent.
The "boys will be boys" line does not apply to this at all. Boys will be boys usually applies to guys doing idiotic things like the movie jack ass or something. Not straight up sexual acts with their step-daughter!!
I implore you to please seek some help if there is any indication that you may feel that something ain't quite right about this situation. Please.
I saw my wife cheating on me, and having sex with her co-worker, in the bed that we have slept in for nearly over fifteen years now.
I've been having a constant nagging feeling in the back of my mind for a few months now. Especially, since she's started to work from home, thanks greatly to the Corona virus.
I've had friends and family telling me that they've seen her and the guy frequenting out the way travel lodges...
People saw them and sent me recordings from their phones, where it shows them clearly going in and out of seedy travel motels.
They've even have had a few weekend "business" trips last year.
I've always tried to look past it all, and actually gave her a huge berth of a margin of error.
My nagging feeling actually started when after she started working from our house, she also insisted on her "co worker" ... come and work from the same place, that way, neither of them would get lonely at any point.
Their office didn't care, and I plainly actually love my wife, to care about anything so trivial. If it made her happy, I'm on board with it.
He started coming over and working from our house, around the end of April.
It was okay at first, but around the first week of June, especially during the days of the extreme heat waves, I started to notice a pattern.
Even though we have overpowered central air conditioning system, I've always walking into the house, and finding my wife only walking around in skimpy underwear and what appeared to be a hastily thrown on a short thin silk white robe.
A robe so short, that it never actually covered more than top quarter half of her amazing butt, and barely covered the areolas of her elegantly massive breasts.
Each and every time, she'd be totally out of breath, panting, running out of our bedroom and running down the stairs to meet me and our daughter.
I've always picked up our daughter from school on my way back from work.
So, she's been like a eye witness to this changing behavior.
After about a few agonizingly long minutes of her constantly blocking our way, and actively trying to distract the two of us, her co worker would stroll out from out of our bedroom door. Fully clothed, in a t-shirt and shorts.
She'd look back and smile, then give us some half assed explanation about why he was in there.
Our daughter and I would look at each other and roll our eyes at each other.
It gets worse, when you learn that, my wife doesn't make an effort anymore to come up with a decent suitable lie.
No, it's actually the same half hearted one, telling me that he needed to use our bathroom. Which is weird by itself actually, especially since you are going to have to walk past two completely good rest rooms just to get to our bedroom door.
If I eventually do decide to go check out our bathroom, I distinctly get the smell of sex wafting from it.
Our bed a mess, pillows and blankets shoved off and on the ground.
My wife's clothes flung around all over the room.
Sticky wet spots littered the sheets.
I'd on occasion, find condom packs on the carpet.
It was clear as day, that they were definately having sex.
I loved her, so, I just avoided the subject, along with the thousand questions running through my head.
They would almost always, eventually head out of the house for a late lunch, and wouldn't eventually be back until after 9 at night.
One does have theories.
My daughter and i, on that inevitable day, just ended up ordering a pizza, and went to freshen ourselves.
We just went quiet the entire time.
We came back down, without speaking a single word.
Sat around the table quietly.
Ate our pizzas in utter silence.
Like autonomous drones, we both got up and went upstairs and into the secluded movie watching lounge area.
It has had become like over a decade long only Daddy and Daughter bonding time.
Where my daughter and I go into look the door to the inside, turn off the lights, pull the blackout blinds, hangout, talk and watch something on the huge television.
Eventually, we'd snuggle up in the corner of the couch, in each other's arms, and maybe drift off to sleep.
This day wasn't that different either, but this time without a single word.
We turned off the TV after the movie finished.
We held each other and the eerily quietness was only broken by our breathing.
Everything was engulfed into the darkness.
This went on for a while.
My daughter finally broke the silence.
"DAD! You do understand that Mom's actually been cheating on you right?"
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You seem to accept it and that is up to you, you have your reasons. You could speak with her but your choice is yours and hers is hers.
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Rated: XGC · Short Story · Adult · # 1668434
Created: April 28th, 2010 at 11:33 pm
Modified: April 28th, 2010 at 11:33 pm
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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,
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