Chatting with Daddy Ch. 01

Nearly 100 miles South, in San Diego, in the tiny dorm room, Alexa's heart began pounding, too, as she read the message, not because she was at all shocked, but because of how honest her father was being with her. What's more, she'd herself imagined Emily's dad in a sexual way, and as her masturbatory fantasy returned, so did the images of Emily's father seducing her, and in one of Alexa's most kinky fantasies, making love to her on Emily's bed. The young girl shudder as she formed her response, fingers shaking as she struggled to find the letters on her keyboard.

"Wow, dad," she responded as she sat in front of her computer, staring at the screen, her mind flooded with images of her father fucking Emily one second, and Emily's father fucking her another second. The images began melting together as she sat there in front of her computer and closing her eyes and gently breathed out.

"You okay?" the message popped on the screen, as Alexa was jolted from the various images and back to reality. She'd never thought about her father in a sexual way, yet, sitting there as he poured his darkest secrets out to her, she found herself imagining him at his his sexual peak while fucking her own friends. For good measure, although it did not intentionally enter her mind, the image of her father fucking Emily on her own bed.

"Heh, I am fine," she responded. "Just a bit ... overwhelmed, that's all." In reality, she wasn't okay. Alexa found herself in a stage she'd rarely been in, as her mind recalled fantasies of sex with her best friend's father. Her body seemed to get hotter as she reached to feel her cheeks, which were burning with sexual excitement.

"Sorry if I crossed the line," Marc typed. Though he truly wanted to make sure his daughter was okay, a part of him also wanted reassurance that he hadn't crossed the line, and that he could go on. "Overwhelmed is good or bad?" he continued.

"Dad, like I said, it's okay," Alexa responded. "You love mom, but you have certain fantasies. They were pretty, I understand," she reassured him. "If we were all judged based on our fantasies, both you and I, and the rest of the world, would be dead."

Marc froze. Was she admitting to having dirty fantasies, too, with her last message to him? Was this his chance of opening up even more, perhaps finding out what her fantasies might be and later on, getting off to them? Marc decided to push further, though reminding himself that at the moment she resisted, he must stop.

"Oh, you, too?" he typed. "And I had to say, as much as I thought your friends were pretty, you were the prettiest," he continued, opening the door yet a few more inches.

"Yes, me as well, dad," Alexa respoded. "Only if you knew ...and, thanks again," she ended the text with another smiley face, then decided to go on. "What did you like about me?" she asked, wondering if Emily's father also thought she was pretty, as her own father did.

"Oh, where do I begin?" Marc typed. "Your vibrant smile, your colors and life, your hair, the way you smelled, everything," he continued, keeping it as light and non-sexual as possible to ease her in. Yet, there was also the business of continuing the other conversation, the one that'd pushed them this far.

"Oh, and you take after me," he continued. "Explorations are good ..."

"Aww, dad, my hair and smell?" Alexa responded, happy at her father's compliments and yet still curious about the fantasies he had of her friend Emily. "And, so, what about Emily? What kinds of fantasy?"

Marc no longer cared. He no longer wanted to stop and ask for permission. She asked, and he had every right to answer, and he although he knew he was crossing boundaries no father should ever cross with their own daughter, he continued.

"Yes, I loved how your hair ran down your shoulders and the way you always smelled so clean and fresh," he typed. "Not to mention how you always looked so wonderful in your soccer outfits. So full of life and health," he paused to transition. "As for Emily, a lot of the fantasies was about her father seducing her, touching her, brushing against her and slowly making her ... orgasm. It was the reluctance and the taboo that got us off," he finished the sentence, adding the last part to ensure the conversation wasn't purely sexual.

Alexa could feel her mouth drying as the words appeared on her screen. The way Marc described Emily's father seducing his own daughter was the way Alexa had imagined her best friend's father would seduce her. She wanted to hear more, she wanted to be fed the fantasy, yet realizing that it might seem unacceptable by social standards, she also wanted to continue the other conversation of how her dad adored her.

"Oh, I was running around in those outfits all the time. Weren't they too flimsy?" she asked, then went on. "And what else about Emily and her dad?" Alexa asked, hoping just for a little more description.

"They weren't at all. You were very pretty in them, the way the shorts highlighted your legs, and how they tightly wrapped around you, I remember them," Marc continued, pouring his heart out now, and yet still remembering he had another conversation about Emily to take care of. He probed further.

"As for Emily, the relunctance was part of it - her not wanting to orgasm because of how wrong the idea is, but unable to help herself as he explored her with his fingers," he typed. "She shudders as he brushes against her thigh, slowly turning her own, making her body squirm," he stopped typing to wait for her response.

Just has she'd imagined. Just as she'd imagined the way Emily's father would touch her in her fantasies. Alexa closed her eyes as she swallowed, and opening her eyes again, let out a sigh.

"That's sweet that you noticed," she typed, feeling pride in her own body as she realized despite lusting after her own friends, her father also had the time to notice her. "And those shorts, sometimes, they hiked up too much, just like the volleyball shorts," she continued.

"You are, after all, my daughter, I had to notice my own pride and joy," Marc responded. "And they were too short sometimes, from a mile away, anyone could look just straight up the thighs of anyone wearing those shorts." He stopped here, hinting yet again that he'd tried to look up her shorts and hoping she'd pick up on the hint.

"Oh, dad, and descriptions of Emily and her father -- kind of hot," Alexa typed one more time, urging her father to go on, and shaking at the similarities between her fantasy for Emily's father and her father's fantasies. "Haha, were you peeking up those shorts, dad?" she asked, carrying on with two conversations at once, letting out a sigh as she imagined her father staring up her friends' shorts as they stretched.

Hard. That was the only way to describe Marc's predicament as he received Alexa's last message. Hot? Just nearly half an hour ago, he'd thought she'd be repulsed by the fantasies, yet here, now, she was describing it as hot. Could he go on? He wondered as he continued typing, wondering how hot it'd made her and whether or not she was turned on. Driven by his own sexual desires, Marc let his lust exit through his fingers and onto the keyboard.

"What do you think is hot about it? And, yes, I have to admit I was staring at times," he continued. "I also remember the volleyball games ..." he dropped another hint.

Here Alexa stopped to consider her answer. Did her father just ask why she thought the fantasy was hot? What were her options in answering? Could she be honest and risk crossing a line they should never cross, or could she put a stop to it and end the thrills of a stimulating conversation? She decided to continue.

"Hot because of the relunctance, like you said, but also because she cannot help but orgasm, despite it being her dad," Alexa typed, then added her part. "Imagine her closing her eyes and telling herself not to orgasm, yet her body cannot help it as she inches closer."

She'd joined him now, she'd joined him in describing the scenes playing out in their heads, yet in her mind, it was her on the couch with Emily's father yet not daring not to divulge to her father the secret. Despite her physical reactions to their conversations, Alexa reminded herself there were certain lines not to be crossed.

"Oh, tell me about the volleyball games," she typed. "You rarely had the time to make it, as it was still during work hours."

Marc felt a sense of guilt. Indeed he rarely made it to the games, and wished he could have, yet at that moment, he could only think of one thing -- how radiant she'd looked at the game, and he was determined to tell her about it.

"I remember you were sweaty, your body glistened with sweat as you made several saves and ended up winning the game," he replied. "Your ponytail dancing from place to place as you made the dives, the sweat on your body making your uniform cling onto you."

Stopping for her to digest the message, he continued, slowly testing the waters again.

"I bet all the men at the game were also noticing," he hit Enter, and continued on with another message.

"Beautiful description of Emily, by the way. Her father just sliding his hand closer to her crotch, lightly massaging her thighs with his finger, making her squirm as her heart pounds," he hit Enter again as he lit another Marlboro.

"Oh, I was too sweaty and dirty to be noticed by anyone," Alexa feint modesty, although a rush of blood surged through her body at her father's description of her. "What else?"

She wanted to respond to her father's fantasy of Emily and her dad, and more than anything else, wanted to join him in writing the fantasy. She could feel her heart beating faster now, and down below, the familiar feeling of dampness returned.

"And she can feel herself getting damp as his fingers explore her inner thighs, wishing he'd move up a bit more, as to touch her crotch. She is scared, yet cannot help the pleasurable feeling," Alexa typed.

"Well, at least I was noticing you," Marc responded, not caring how his messages appeared anymore. "I imagined what other men might be thinking as they saw you in action on the court, and it wasn't pretty."

He then turned his attention toward the scene of their now shared fantasy: "And, yes, her body can feel the pleasure now, goosebumps all over her body, on her breasts as he glides his fingers over her crotch, lightly brushing against her clit to see if he could continue," Marc typed, for the first type introduce a dirty word into the conversation. He could have typed "clitoris," but instead used "clit" to push the boundaries. It was a dare. Would she dare upping the ante by typing a word of her own? He wondered as he sat there in the dark, shaking with anticipation.

Alexa couldn't take it anymore. Her father's use of the word "clit" sent her into another realm of sexual excitement. His description of her at the volleyball game even more so, as she wondered what he imagined those other men were thinking. She decided to ask.

"So, just WHAT were those men thinking?" she asked, adding another wink to ease the tension, then continued. "And, yes, her hips push up as he brushed against her clit, feeling waves of pleasure throughout her body. She lets out a low groan as he uses his finger to brush against the side of her panties, barely a fourth of an inch of her pussy."

She sat there for a second staring at her message, wondering if she should send it. "Pussy." It was a word she'd never used in a conversation with him before, but what was the harm now? They were just two people having a conversation. A father and daughter. So what if it were her father with whom she was talking? They were merely doing that. Yet, some parts of Alexa also realized that perhaps having such a conversation with her own father was the exciting part. Just in the last hour, they'd crossed many lines, and there were still many left. She decided they would cross another one. She hit Enter.

Marc was formulating his own message when her message, the one containing the word "pussy," came across. "Well, I bet they were thinking how sexy you were, and were squinting just to get a clearer view of your panties," he'd typed. "They were wondering many things, too." He hit Enter and sat there, reading and re-reading her latest message to him. What a perfect description, he thought. She'd taken after him, with a gift of gab, being able to succinctly describe anything with perfect word structures. Yet, he also marveled at the word "pussy." Had she taken him across another line? He decided to reply.

"Oh, God, Alexa. Imagine how he must be feeling, mere fractions of an inch from his daughter's pussy as his middle finger, just the tip, comes in contact with her pussy lips, moist and hot from his teasing, as she leans back and closes her eyes," he typed and hit sent right away. "Just the mere thought excites me," he continued, letting another hint for that their conversation had excited him.

Two conversations going on at once, yet both heading in the same direction. Was her father squinting, too? Alexa wondered, and just what were they wondering about? She had a pretty good idea. How would she respond, she wondered as she received his second message.

"What were they wondering?" she typed and hit sent, her heart nearly jumping out of her chest. "I seemed pretty plain," she continued, downplaying the conversation as she began typing the second message.

"Yes! She winces as his finger glides along her slit and drags toward her clit, making her hips buck against his finger, pressing her pussy against it as she remains without a word, except soft breaths of pleasure," she hit Enter again, this time not taken even a second to re-read her images. As their conversation went on, the quickness of messages in response also increased for them both. Images of both her father and Emily as well as she and Emily's dad entered her head again, as she closed her eyes to savor at the moment.

"They were probably wonder what you'd look like naked," Marc was quick with a response as his daughter's other message came in. "Whether you shaved, whether you masturbated," he continued, shaking with excited that a new can of worms had been opened. It didn't matter anymore. No longer did he have to stop to formulate the messages. He would simply reply, upping the ante each time and hoping she'd push back.

His fingers shook. She'd described to him the fantasy he'd had of her all along, as if being able to read his mind. No longer was it Emily being touched by her father in Marc's mind, it was his own daughter being touched by him, yet he continued to describe the scene otherwise, not yet daring to admit to her his lust. He continued, going back to the description of Emily and her dad again.

"He uses just the tip of his finger as he teases her hole, now drooling with her own fuck juices, barely pushing in as she groans again, feeling her father's fingers around her cunt," he typed, this time introduce two more taboo words, knowing she'd readily accept it and type back. Or, would she, he wondered.

"Yes, and yes," Alexa typed, in response to his wonderment. Driven by her own lust, she'd not thought about the impact of her response to his message about her hygiene habits and whether she masturbated. "And ... if we continue this ... I might have to," she responded.

Oh, God, Marc thought to himself. He known she masturbated, as both people do, but to see his own daughter tell him that she does, and what's more, was about to, drove him over the top. He found it difficult to breathe, and the bulge in his pants grew larger as he stood up from the chair, stumbling with the intoxication of lust.

"To what, Alexa?" he faked ignorance as he sat there, his hand reaching down for his cock, pushing out in a bulge against his pants.

Rapid-fire. That was now the rate of their back-and-forth conversation, and no longer than five seconds after he'd sent her the message, Marc got one back.

"To masturbate ..." she typed, admitting for the first time that the conversation had also made her horny. Barely able to contain himself, he fumbled on the keyboard with a response.

"God, that's sexy," he typed. "I didn't realize how much of an effect this conversation has had on us," he responded, hoping for yet another message from her, describing how horny she was at the moment.

"God, I know -- I am a hot mess," she typed as she bit her lips, feeling another surge of hormones running through her body. She wanted to to type "cum with me," but stopped short as she hit Enter, realizing the magnitude of such a statement and suddenly realizing what she'd sent.

"Oh, God, Alexa, me too. I am about to pull my cock out and cum with you," he typed as he rushed back inside the house, in his study and plugged the powercord in the computer, imagining his own daughter gliding her fingers down her legs and masturbating to their shared incestuous fantasy.

At the receipt of this message, Alexa saw red flags all of the sudden, and broke from the lustful intoxication that both she and Marc had been under. Although her legs still shook with excitement and her panties now soaked from the shared incestuous fantasy, her mind got the best of her as she realized she was about to masturbate with her own father. It was one thing to share fantasies, yet it was another to actually masturbate with him. After all, he was in love with her mother still, and worst, he was her father. To share fantasies is one thing, but to masturbate together while talking about those fantasies was something else entirely.

She sat there staring at her computer, not knowing how to put a stop to it, or better yet, whether she wanted to stop it at all. Slowly putting her hands up to the keyboard, Alexa slowly typed perhaps the most difficult words of the night.

"Oh, dad ... mom's probably waiting for you," she typed after a most difficult decision. "Go have fun with her. Better than masturbating!" She added another smiley face, to let him know while she wasn't upset.

Marc's heart sank. Had he spoken too soon? Had he offended her? Freaked her out? Had he blown whatever chance he had of enjoying some cheap thrills? Lost in the conversation, Marc had also allowed the conversation to cross many lines he never intended to cross, and although he still sported a massive hard-on, his immediate concern was his relationship with his daughter.

"Alexa, I am so sorry for losing my mind like that. Are you okay?" he typed, overcame with remorse that he'd allowed the conversation to go as far as it did.

"Aww, dad, it's fine," Alexa typed, still coming to terms with how close she'd come to masturbating with her own father, and more even more touched by his apology.

"We had a ... a moment. It's fine. You love mom. Go take care of her ... and yourself ..." her heart sank as she finished the sentence, imagining her parents having sex and playing out a scene she'd just part took with her father. Although not jealous, and most certainly not "in love" with her father in a romantic sense, Alexa felt a sense of loss -- as if somehow she'd turned her father away after they were so close to orgasm.

"Okay, darling, I love you, goodnight," Marc typed after staring at the screen for almost a minute, disappointed as he stood up and walked into her old room. Taking a pair of panties out of her drawer, Marc sat down in the dark and with shaking hands, began unbutton his jeans as he brought her panties up to his nose ...

Moments later, in San Diego, the quietness of the University of San Diego dorms were broken with Alexa's soft sigh as she re-read the conversation they'd had. After she finished reading for the second time, the 18-year-old turned off her computer and sat on her couch, softly gliding her hand down her stomach, pushing it past her panties. Though her fingers felt familiar to the young girl, just for one night, they would represent the fingers of her very own father.