Author's note:
This is the third chapter in the story of Rebecca and her father John, in which Rebecca makes an unusual request that goes way beyond the traditional daddy-daughter dynamic.
I strongly recommend reading the first two chapters before this, or a lot of things aren't going to make much sense.
I'll repeat my warning that this story is very heavy on daddy-daughter and female orgasm denial stuff, and that it's a slow burn with heavy romance elements.
Enjoy!
Thursday Evening
Rebecca's eyes fluttered open.
"Daddy?" she said drowsily, looking up at him with a bedroom smile. In her mind, she was relaxing in his arms, totally spent after he'd given her what was hands-down the best fuck of her life, even though he didn't allow her to orgasm.
It took her a confused second to realize that she was no longer dreaming, and that she was, in fact, still just sitting beside him on the couch, fully clothed and mostly decent.
She blushed, her eyes widening, afraid that he'd somehow be able to tell what she'd been dreaming about. She was a bit disturbed at exactly how depraved her dreams had become, and even more at how much that had turned her on. She was so tingly it almost felt like her entire body was buzzing.
With a start, she noticed that she was clinging to him, her legs invitingly open, her left thigh draped over his right. She was halfway onto his lap.
"Oh," she said, embarrassed, her blush deepening. "I... I-I'm sorry..."
"Shh," he hushed her gently, smiling knowingly at her. "It's okay, baby girl."
"D-did I...? W-was I...?" she stammered incoherently, not exactly sure what she was asking.
He just chuckled, nodding.
"Oh my god," she murmured, her voice trembling, horrified at herself.
He cupped her chin in one big hand, his deep brown eyes looking into hers.
"Don't worry about it," he said, smiling reassuringly. "It's okay. Really."
She blinked, still a bit confused. "B-but - "
"You just had a wet dream, sweetie," he whispered, kissing her on the forehead. "Happens to us all. Nothing to worry about."
She just sat there for a while, still clinging to him simply because she didn't know what else to do. Also, she really didn't want to let go. She felt exposed, knowing that she'd basically just had dream-sex right there on her dad's lap. Knowing that he knew.
But his reaction made it all feel okay, somehow. She decided to finally come clean.
"Daddy?" she said in a tiny voice, biting her lip nervously. "There's... There's something I think I need to talk about, but - I... I don't know..." she trailed off, nearly losing her courage again.
"You can always tell me anything, sweetheart," he said, looking into her eyes again. "Anything. You understand?"
She nodded, gathering her thoughts for a moment. Finally, she took a deep breath, deciding to just come out and say it.
"I can't cum anymore," she finally admitted, her cheeks flushing. "I... I've tried, but I... I just can't get there."
He just looked at her, a sympathetic smile on his lips, waiting patiently for her to go on. It encouraged her.
"It feels like I'm going to when I... you know. But it's like I just can't get over the edge. I don't know why," she said, the words coming more and more easily. "I'm feeling so desperate and needy, like I'm constantly just about to explode."
"I'm just so fucking horny all the time!" she finally blurted as the final dam seemed to break inside her. "I don't know what to do, daddy..."
She felt a powerful surge of emotion at finally lending words to her predicament to her beloved father, and a couple of hot tears trickled their way down her cheeks.
He looked at her for a moment, then smiled.
"First of all," he said gently, "I'm so very grateful that you trust me enough to tell me this."
She nodded, sniffling and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
"Well," she said, a small smile finding its way onto her face, "I just basically had a wet dream on your lap, so I guess I sort of owe you an explanation."
He chuckled.
"Oh god," she said, her embarrassment suddenly returning. "I hope I didn't dry-hump your leg or anything!"
"Don't worry," he reassured her, smiling. "No humping. Dry or otherwise."
She felt relieved about that part at least.
"So," he said after a while, "tell me what's happening."
"Well," she explained, "I've had a harder and harder time, um... finding my climax... for the last couple of months."
He nodded encouragingly.
"To start with, it got to where I could only get there using the vibrator, even though I used to be able to get off fine with just my fingers," she said, feeling more than a bit weird telling her dad, but she continued anyway.
"And for the last week or so, it's completely eluded me. I just... I just can't cum."
"Not even with the vibrator?"
"No," she pouted. "Stupid thing died on me before I could get there. Every day this week."
"Well, that must suck," he simply said, and she couldn't help laughing at the unguarded honesty of his candid comment.
"Believe me, it does," she said with a chuckle.
"Maybe we should get you one with a cord?" he suggested thoughtfully after a moment's consideration, his voice completely serious.
That's my daddy,
she thought adoringly,
always the problem solver.
She suddenly giggled and then laughed.
"Sorry," she said, "I just can't believe that we're actually having this conversation."
"It's a little surreal," he admitted, chuckling, "I'll grant you that."
"But it might not be a bad idea," she said. "With the corded vibrator, I mean." "Even though my clit is sore as hell after a week of self-inflicted abuse," she added after a moment's thought, and then breaking out laughing once again. "I'm not sure it'll forgive me anytime soon."
"That sounds painful," he said, his sympathetic chuckle giving way to a laugh.
They just laughed together for a while at the pure absurdity of the situation.
"Yeah," she finally said, still twitching with laughter. "I'm so red down there it looks like rugburn or something."
He laughed again.
