Noelle, my twenty-three year old daughter, came home for the holiday break, arriving the Sunday before Christmas and planning to stay until just after the New Year. I was delighted to have her home, and was looking forward to a wonderful Christmas break with her.
I lived alone following my divorce. Noelle and I were close, and I did my best to be there for her despite my long hours in the film industry. But, I gave us a nice home with plenty of privacy (which I greatly desire), and sent her to a good private school and then on to college.
Noelle had been twelve when I won custody, and blossomed into a lovely teen, and then a young woman before I knew it. She went off to college, but she always came home several times a year, and we continued to be close.
I confess to feeling some disturbance when she started dating, but did my best to grow accustomed to it, and Noelle always let me know that I was loved and to never worry on that front. Still, it took getting used to, and I did adjust to some degree.
Looking back, I suppose there were warning signs of what was to develop between us, though I couldn't see it at the time. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty, isn't it?
For the holidays, I held a small, intimate gathering of a few friends from work and local neighbors. They were all delighted to see Noelle, and that she was doing well. She looked great with her leggy, slender, five-foot nine inches of blonde beauty, taking more after my older sister than she did her mom. Noelle was healthy and sunny, and people responded favorably to her.
Late in the evening, as the party was winding down and we were just enjoying the holiday music, drinks, and a fire, Noelle came and sat down on my lap, putting her arms around my neck and giving me a kiss on the cheek.
"Hello, Daddy!" she said and snuggled close. "I'm so glad to be here with you!"
I smiled, dismissing my discomfort, especially in front of my friends and neighbors (who seemed not to notice anything amiss, so why should I?), and said, "Me, too, pumpkin. Me, too."
Noelle put her head against my shoulder, and squirmed deeper into my lap. I felt her ass press onto my cock, and to my embarrassment and horror, it started to harden!
Pulse racing, face burning, I froze, hoping she wouldn't notice, nor that my reaction would betray me to my guests. Noelle simply smiled dreamily, like she was just happy and savoring the closeness, and I felt maybe I could relax. Until she squirmed deeper, pressing harder against me, and shifted so that the length of me rode the crack of her ass. Then she moved, ever so slightly, rubbing me with her ass, back and forth. If she wasn't my daughter, I would have savored the sensation. But given that she was, it made me doubly ashamed and uncomfortable. Was she doing this deliberately? I couldn't tell, and dismissed it, glad that she hadn't bolted or given me away.
When it came time for my guests to leave, Noelle slid from my lap and put the fleece throw across it, hiding my bulge, and showed them out. I sat there dumbfounded and embarrassed, afraid of what she might say. But all she did when they left was to pop in and say goodnight, giving me a quick kiss on the lips and going off to her room to go to bed.
Maybe I had imagined things? Maybe it wasn't anything to be embarrassed about? I didn't know, and climbed out of my chair to head to bed.
On the way, I heard a soft whimper from Noelle's room. Curious and concerned, I went to see if she was okay. Her door was slightly ajar, and through the crack I could see her on her bed, nightie pulled up, and her hands furiously rubbing at her pussy.
Whoops! I stopped at the door, not wanting to make a sound. I didn't want to embarrass her further, nor myself, by barging in unannounced while she was in the midst of masturbating.
I could have stepped away. I could have, and should have. But because of the strange, semi-aroused state I had been in, something made me stay, and watch.
My daughter was lovely, to be sure. But to see her like this, lost in her self-pleasure, was truly special. I saw her, not as my daughter, but as the beautiful, lovely, sensual young woman she had become; as an adult, who had her own wants and needs and delights and pleasures.
My cock grew incredibly hard, and throbbed, aching for attention.
I knew it was wrong, but I needed it in that moment, and I undid my fly and let forth my erection and wrapped my hand around it.
Noelle was whimpering and moaning, and looked so incredibly sexy, I couldn't resist! I started stroking my cock as I watched my daughter make herself cum.
I was close, too, but realized I didn't want to make a mess on the floor just outside her door. Stuffing my cock back into my pants, I waddled to my room in a rush and closed the door. Pulling it free, in a few short jerks, I came, powerfully, and then stood there panting and amazed.
What the fuck?! I just got off from watching my daughter masturbate?!
I felt ashamed of myself. But also really, really pleased. Satisfied. I hadn't had a climax like that in years! Not that it is any excuse, I realize. But I was filled with those mixed feelings of guilt and pleasure all the same.
I was a bit shy with my daughter for the next day or two, though she never brought it up or acted strange in any way, so I thought I was fine. It was strange, but it had happened, and now it was over.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
Christmas eve was just the two of us. We went to midnight service, and came home and shared a few small gifts. We said our good nights and went to bed.
Christmas day, I woke up to a special breakfast-coffee, eggs, bacon, and coffee cake. Noelle was wearing these Victoria's Secret silk pajama shorts and matching pink top, and I could see she didn't have a bra, her nipples pressing through the fabric. I tried not to notice, but I did. And the more I did, the more I felt that same guilt/arousal thing, and sat hiding my bulge under the breakfast table.
"How is it?" Noelle asked as she came over with a plate of extras. She went to sit in my lap, but I scooted closer to the table, blocking her.
"Great!" I answered. My voice was high and I sounded nervous. I laughed to hide it, then coughed as a bit of coffee cake went down my throat.
"Dad!" she said and clapped me on the back. "I'm glad you like it, but don't wolf it down so fast you choke!"
I nodded, embarrassed both by my choking and by my hard on, but managed to survive. I sipped some coffee and motioned for her to bend down so I could give her a kiss. It also gave me an unobstructed view down her top, and the sight of her spectacular softball-sized breasts made my cock jump and pulse with hunger.
"Thank you, honey," I said and moved closer to the table. "This is wonderful."
Noelle smiled happily, ignorant of any inappropriate attention on my part, and danced back to the stove to serve herself up a plate.
"I am so glad!" she replied, and came and sat next to me.
We enjoyed the breakfast, and I offered to clean up, but Noelle insisted and shooed me out.
Closer to noon, we opened presents. Noelle got me several DVDs of films I loved - old classics - and a holiday tie. The latter was an ongoing joke, like fruitcakes or Christmas sweaters, and I loved it.
Holding it up with a smile, I said, "Honey - it's awful!" as if it were the best gift ever.
Noelle laughed and clapped her hands and was as delighted as a child.
I gave her some new clothes - a dress, a jacket, and some new jeans and tops - plus money toward shoes. I always gave her money for shoes because I never bought her ones she loved. Lessons learned.
Christmas was warm, and close, and wonderful, and I forgot all about the strangeness from earlier.
The next day, I found a special note on my breakfast plate: "Tonight, a special surprise for the special man I love!" When Noelle came in, I asked her about it, and she only smiled mysteriously and said, "You'll have to wait and see."
"Well, can I get a hint? Do I have to do anything special? Are we going out somewhere?"
Noelle cocked her head and gazed at me with a mischievous smile. "Okay - yes. Dress up. Nothing formal, but nice."
"Like the theater?" I asked, thinking I had a clue what my surprise was: tickets to a play or music recital.
"Like that, yes," my daughter answered strangely. "A - performance."
