Shellys Secret Ch 03

Introduction: This story continues with graphic depictions of father and daughter sex. If this is not your thing, please look for another story. All participants are over 18.

I wish to again, thank Grania2 for editing assistance on this story.

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Since the first two chapters received a positive rating, I thought I would continue on with Shelly's story. Shelly was fine with all this, but was somewhat taken-back however, by some of the rude comments directed towards her.

For this next section, she offered an interesting suggestion. She volunteered to tell this part from her first hand perspective. I liked the idea. We will see how it goes over.

Shelly is not that much into writing. So I'll do the actual typing and editing, but it is pretty much written in her own words.

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Shelly,

First off, let me say how amazed I am at the amount of interest in my brother's first story. He had told me a while ago that he was considering doing something like this. I was fine with it, and a little bit curious about the whole thing. I was a little pissed at a few of the comments that came in response to it, particularly the ones about me being a "bitch or whore."

I have turned out just fine by the way, thank you. I grew up ok. I got married to a really sweet guy. I have two wonderful sons, whom I love very much. I have a good paying job that I like. My husband was in the military, and shipped out overseas. He was killed 3 years ago in an accident aboard a ship. It wasn't combat related, someone just got careless.

For those thinking I'm all messed up mentally or something, sorry, I'm just fine there too. I really don't understand all the judgmental attitudes out there. For Pete's sake, we are all adults. My story is on an adult web site being read by grown people, who choose to go there. Why be so judgmental about my life? For me, sex is fun and a part of life, with anyone. What is the big deal? We all want it. We all do it, and we all need it. Why can't everyone just enjoy it for what it is? To me sex is best with someone you love, be it friend, spouse or even a relative. What's the difference? My family members are my best friends, and I love them the most. Greg's giving me nasty looks now, so I better end my speech, and get to the story.

In Greg's first story you heard how he got involved in my sex life. I know he wrote that it was all Dads doing, but I have to confess a lot of the initial stuff was me teasing and pushing things. True, Dad jumped at the chance as most men would. This is my version of how things got started.

My earliest memory of all this started when I was almost nineteen. Dad always sat in the living room in the evenings watching TV. My brother Greg usually cut out right after dinner to go to his buddy's house until our 9:30 curfew. He was always late getting home.

Remember, all this happened in the era before computers, video games and cell phones. I was bored, and maybe just looking to gain some attention.

After finishing up kitchen chores and homework, I would find some excuse to join Dad on the couch. Being an affectionate girl, I would go and try to snuggle up next to him. With Mom gone in the evenings at work, we had lots of time alone. I think things really got started because I got so bored with what he was watching.

I had started resting my head on Dad's lap. He never objected to this, so I continued doing this for a while. I soon became aware that if I gently rocked my cheek into his lap, he seemed to get uneasy. I noticed other things also. He never said stop, so I persisted. I was thinking this was a game he was playing, and he was trying to ignore me.

I continued and watched him fidget around. I was playfully rocking my face around once, when finally, he grabbed my head. He held me still, and then pushed the side of my face tightly against his lap. That's when I really felt the pressure from his stuff against my cheek. My constant teasing had finally gotten him aware of me. Now I had his attention.

I know I was pretty clueless about things. I wasn't thinking about where any of this was leading. At some point he called my bluff. He asked me if I wanted to see what I was doing to him. I didn't think he was really mad or anything at me, so I just kind of acted "like whatever."

At this, he undid the buckle on his belt, unsnapped the top of his jeans and pulled down his zipper. I just sat there, unsure what he expected of me. After letting me sit puzzled for a few moments he made some statement like,

"Well girl, take a look at what you got started."

His briefs were stretched tight and were bulging upwards. I wasn't going to do anything but just look. I had just gotten my head over his zipper and had just begun to try to make out the shape beneath the fabric. Then suddenly he caught the back of my head and shoved my face right into his crotch.

Dad always wore white briefs, 'tighty-whities,' I called them. He pushed my face right up against the fabric. As my face was held there, I don't remember resisting. I guess he thought I would fight back, or jerk my head up, and try to pull away.

I have always had a little competitive, tom-boy streak in me. So, I went with it, and stayed passive, sort of like "Yeah, so what."

I remember the scent of the fabric softener Mom had always used. My nose was sort of pressed out flat.

When he finally let me up, I looked to see him smiling.

"Well then, why don't you have a real look?" he said, challenging me.

I admit being a bit curious, and I was never one to back off a dare. I tried to work my fingers into the slot in his underwear, but you know how tight those damn things are.

After watching me fiddling around some he finally stood up and dropped his jeans and briefs to about to his knees, then dropped back on the couch. I sat there staring at the first male cock I had ever seen.

I know guys are all hung up on size. I don't have any measurements I can give you.

I'm not good at guessing how many inches or whatever something is. All I could think, was, how do you walk around all day with something like that between your legs?

Doesn't it get squashed, or pinched when you move or sit? I was thinking it was always that size. I hadn't realized that I had caused it to swell up like that.

Dad was pretty hairy around his balls, and the majority of his cock seemed twisted and bent. I was totally absorbed by how alive it seemed to be. It seemed like a coiled-up living thing. Dad reached down and straightened out the shaft, sort of letting it fall across the leg closest to me.

The crown is what fascinated me the most. It was a deep crimson color. I had sort of figured a guy's dick would be more like a finger. Remember, I had never seen a real cock, and had nothing really to compare it to. Anyway, Dad just left it lying on its side, sort-of pointing toward me.

He said that I could touch it if I wanted to.

I wasn't about to fall for the same trick by leaning over to get a better look, so I cautiously put a hand on his thigh and moved his leg somewhat to see if I could get it to move more. At my touch, it seemed to try to stand on its own.

Now feeling more confident, I reached for it. I gently lifted the shaft part upward. I was stunned at how heavy it felt. It didn't need much help to keep standing upright after that.

This had all started with me sitting by him, and playfully touching it after that. I have always enjoyed the feeling that I can make any man respond to my touch. I would lay there along side him blowing at it, or softly caressing the sides of it. Often I'd just trace little circles in the soft skin of his ball sack with my fingers. That would usually cause his dick to lengthen, and turn a deep red color. I was so fascinated with it moving, as if of its own free will.

I remember a certain ease during all this, I wasn't scared, ashamed, or anything. It just seemed to be something we fell into naturally. At first I had no idea what to do beyond this. Besides, I really did just like watching it twitching as I teased it. We continued to mess around like this for a couple weeks.

I don't think I would have thought of it, so it was probably at Dad's suggestion that I began using my tongue and mouth more.

Dad had always just showered right after dinner, so I felt no issue with using my mouth.

I became accustom to the regular taste of it. But noticed a changes as things went on. I didn't know back then that it was really "pre-cum" that I was tasting. It never turned me off though.

One time after messing around for a while, Dad actually had a real cum. I had been touching and softly rubbing his shaft, when he suddenly groaned. He knocked my hand away, and grabbed his dick and began furiously pumping at it.

With very little warning, a spurt of the white cum stuff just erupted from his dick. Several shots leapt upward. It cleared his knees landing on the floor. The rest got on the armrest of the couch. I was scared at first. He was groaning so loudly, and shaking all over. His face seemed wracked with pain. It really scared the hell out of me. I though maybe he was having a heart attack or something. He went like this for what seemed like forever. After he finally stopped, he said "it was all ok."

I knew what had come out wasn't pee, but he had never warned me about any of this orgasm stuff. He asked me to lay my head back down on his leg, and just be still. I remember watching the cum stuff dribble down the back of his fist.

Dad was sort of out of breath, but he quietly began explaining about what had just happened. I was fascinated by the whole experience. The aroma of the stuff seemed so masculine. I remember asking to touch it. I used my finger to feel it first. I brought a sample close to my nose to smell it. Dad watched intently to see what I would do next. I had it near my lips to get a better whiff of it. Dad saw me do this, and seemed pleased that I wasn't put off, or grossed-out.

I remember it being so warm, actually it was hot. Finally, I stuck out my tongue and touched it. It didn't have a bad taste, maybe just a little bit salty. So I just continued licking it off my finger till it was gone. Seeing the look on my dad's face, I wanted to please him.

I got up closer and licked up every bit of the cum stuff off the back of his fist. Dad then kind of pointed the cock directly at me as if offering the remainder. I didn't give it much thought, and went ahead and licked the top of his cock clean also.

Dad told me 'it was good for you." I couldn't say I loved the taste of cum right at first, but he got such a kick out of seeing me do it. So I kinda did it just for him.

After I learned what would happen, and in what order, this started to become a common thing for us to do.

I remember him telling me that this was our little secret, and not to tell Mom. Since I liked the attention, and didn't want it to end, I kept quiet about it.

About a month into this I had started removing my tops and bra. Dad said the warmth of my skin on him was really nice. My boobs were not big by any measure, but they were still filling in. To keep from messing up his jeans, he began taking them off also. For some reason I never felt shy about seeing him naked, or with me having very little on.

This went on for several more weeks, and eventually it got to where I would hold onto his prick myself as it spewed out his load. I loved the feeling of control I had over it.

I remember the pulsing of the shaft as jets of cum coursed upward through it and out. I had gotten used to the taste and got to where I always cleaned up every drop of his spunk with my tongue. I liked the sensation of watching his cock shrivel up as I licked about on it. Dad would just lay back, smile, and watch me do this.

One evening he brought out a video, and allowed me to watch a man and woman actually doing a fuck. I was mesmerized by the whole process. The moans and cries from the woman sort of scared me at first. I know now that this was mostly just acting. I hadn't realized yet that, by the woman doing these and other things the guy would orgasm too.

It was kind of hard to tell if they were enjoying the whole thing or not. I knew you had to have sex to have babies, but I had never thought about exactly how the exchange took place, or about the act itself. Remember, we did live out a ways. We weren't isolated completely, but I didn't have any contact with any girls that had actually done it yet.

This one time I was sitting on the couch next to him, and from the start to finish actually milked his cock thru the whole thing. I loved looking down and feeling the hot goo dripping down over my hand. I remember for the first time realizing that I had the power to cause a man to spew whenever I wanted to. This left me with such a feeling of control that I had never experienced before.

I wasn't very good at the blowjob stuff, until we started watching the videos. I now realize that I had no idea what I was doing at all. Dad had never complained though.

I used to wonder why it was called a blowjob anyway? For a time, I had been actually trying to blow at it like a candle.

You're probably interested in the first time we actually fucked, huh? That was at least three months into this.

I had gotten used to seeing graphic examples on the videos. Dad also had some old magazines he would get out. We'd sit and look through them. Dad would give me the names of all the positions. I preferred the magazines over the videos, because I could study the pictures longer. There was always too much going on in most of the videos, and often the lighting wasn't real good. But I still liked them both. I guess fucking was just the next logical step.

I always had lots of questions, but wasn't sure if Dad really wanted it to go that far. He did always tell me his cum "won't make anyone pregnant." I didn't fully understand, but I trusted what he said.

One evening I was sitting across his waist. I had gotten to the point of removing my panties by then also, just to avoid leaving any stains. Dad was really rock-hard at that point and breathing real heavy. I don't know if I did it on purpose, but I scooted down and started to rub my pussy back and forth against his cock. I'm sure I had seen this in one of the books or movies he had. The heat from the shaft was amazing. I had him really wet from spit. I used to spit on it to lubricate his shaft.

Anyway, I started poking the head at the folds of my pussy. Dad was lying flat on his back on the couch, and I was on top facing his feet. I think it's called a cowgirl something. I always liked this position because I could switch hands if one got tired. I especially liked watching cum shoot up from the end of his dick when he would "go off."

I didn't weigh all that much back then, and I could easily slide my butt up his chest lay down and lick him up, once he stopped bucking.

Anyway, this time for some reason, I was lower on him and started playfully poking the shaft against my pussy. Dad started thrusting upward while I was doing this. He nearly threw me off of him. I remember turning around to look at him. His eyes were all glazed over, but he seemed to be encouraging me to continue. I had seen the actual act itself in the books, and on TV, but wasn't sure if that big thing would really fit inside of me.

I poked the head a few more times against my slit, but I was still kind of just fooling around yet. Finally, I just grabbed the shaft about halfway up bent it over, and started for real to jam it inside of me, just to see if it would even go in.

I must have hurt him, because he let out a yelp. I froze, and then suddenly Dad grabbed me by the waist and threw me off the top of him. I was scared he was mad.

He suddenly got up, and got in front of me. He grabbed me just under the arms and lifted me up. He pulled me roughly against his chest, and then grabbed me by the butt, and hoisted me up. I could feel his cock pressing right against my abdomen. I wasn't sure what he had in mind because he just kind of stood there a moment holding me.

He had become real quiet. I could tell he was thinking of something. Then suddenly, he turned and started walking away from the couch, carrying me with him. I didn't say anything as we crossed the room, and headed towards the hallway. I sort of locked my legs around his waist. I remember my heels bouncing against his butt as he walked. He turned, entering his and Mom's bedroom.

I had my arms wrapped around his neck. I was looking back towards the couch in the living room. The pillows were now strewn on the floor.

From the time we first started messing around that is where we always did it. As we passed the doorway into their bedroom I knew that "this" would be different. I guess he had decided it was time to go all out. In my mind I knew I was about to be fucked for real.

Dad carried me over to the bed and laid me down on my back. He followed me down. I was still clinging to his neck. He kissed me softly on each breast. I loved it when he did that. He seemed to know exactly how to position himself, and without missing a beat he lined up his cock to me, and pressed solidly against me. I had always worried that if we got to this point, would I be able to fit him in me. Seeing all the videos I knew what he wanted and what was in store for me.

The adult women I had watched all moaned and seemed in pain. I was afraid I would be too small. I felt a great pressure, and thought I was going to be ripped in two. I was trying to spread my legs apart to help, but the pressure increased. I had just started to cry out in pain, then suddenly something gave and he seemed to fill my entire body. I laid there still not sure if I should be doing something or not. Dad's head stayed down along side mine. He was huffing and gasping for air. I could actually feel his heart pounding thru the veins in his neck.

He hadn't said a word since we left the living room. I've learned since, then that once he got in to his "horn-dog state," there was no stopping him. Dad was generally easy-going while we were messing around, up to a point. When he stopped talking, I knew he needed a release.

I should probably explain "Horn dog." Several years earlier I was at a school friend's house. We were out behind her barn, watching one of her pet male dogs trying to mount a female. The poor male dog was in such a state of frenzied excitement. He was jumping, and lunging all around the bitch. He would whine so pitifully. I felt so sorry for the poor guy. My friend called him a "horn-dog". For some reason, that's how I always referred to my Dad's lusty state also.

When Dads got a "nut-on," and really starts rocking, you had just better go along with whatever he wants.

Dad was slow at first, his thrusts rocking me rhythmically. I remember the bed started squeaking. My sense of panic had vanished as the friction against me increased. A feeling of completeness and calm came over me.

I remembered all the videos we had watched, and was never sure about all the wailing and moaning. Until then I had thought the women were in pain. Now I think it dawned on me, it might be due to the pleasure they were feeling. I had never really had any orgasms yet, that came later on. For some dumb reason I remember, I liked to just to lie there making cooing sounds as he slowly thrust his cock in and out of me. I used to pretend I was a kitten, and tried to make sounds like I was purring.

Dad had only been rocking on me for a few minutes, before he had a cum. It was way too soon for me. He sped up his movements and then let out a several grunts, and his legs went stiff. He shook me for a least a minute. During this he lunged and jerked at me. I thought he was still trying to push it even deeper into me.