[Ichabod]

Happy Halloween, all. Hope nobody out there ends up with a tummy ache from having too much of the sweet stuff.

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I’ll start my story back when I was sixteen years old, though in truth it began well before then.

Really, it all started back when I reached puberty and first started to notice the male of the species and started paying a whole lot more attention to one guy in particular. It developed slowly over many years through the kind of lingering glances and soft smiles that could only mean that my budding affection was being returned. It built up gradually over time until the flames had been fanned into a raging inferno, only waiting for one or the other of us to work up the courage to make something happen.

And exactly who was this guy who could claim to be not only my first love but my greatest as well? Well, that was the really perverse part!

It was my own father.

I was always a bit of a daddy’s girl, I suppose, and we’d always been especially close, but for whatever reason, things just took a turn for the forbidden between us.

After the initial shock of what we were doing passed, it really just seemed so natural for us to be making love.

Dad was working as a columnist for the local newspaper back then, doing a little weekly feature where he commented on everything from pop culture to politics, to the perils of raising a family. Since he did not have to chase down leads or meet with sources like the real reporters did, he was able to work from home mostly and submit his column over the internet.. It was Mom eho had the real job, working at a real estate office. She put in long hours and was gone for most of the day, but considering the size of the paycheck she was able to bring home, I guess it was worth it. I recall that it was summer and school was out, but even so my big brother was never to be found anywhere near the house as he was always running off to hang out with his friends and chase girls.

Of course, what all of this meant was that, more often than not, dad and I were all alone in the house!

Well aware of the attraction that existed between us, I remember that I’d spent that summer doing a little showing off. Just for instance, I spent a lot of time prancing around the house in nothing but my scandalous new bikini, using the pretense that I meant to do a little sunbathing and yet never making it outside. Even when I did wear my clothes though, I made sure to leave the top couple of buttons on my shirt undone to make sure he got an eyeful.

Not very subtle, I know, but I was still pretty new to this.

Still, is it any wonder that he finally snapped? Teasing and tormenting him as I was, is it any wonder that one day he suddenly grabbed me and tossed me over his shoulder, carried me back to my own bedroom, and wore me to a frazzle with a marathon day-long bout of animalistic sex? Is it any wonder that I’ve marked that day on my calendar and have celebrated it’s anniversary each and every year since?

Mom and my brother naturally have no idea what anniversary it is that I’m celebrating on that day and I’m not the least bit inclined to explain it to them.

It got to be like an addiction, really - we couldn’t keep away from each other and the more we fucked, the more we wanted to fuck! Though we got lucky that first time and didn’t make any babies, after that dad always insisted that we use protection so that I would never give birth to a child with webbed toes and a third nostril.

In a show of respecting my privacy, mom never went into my room unless I invited her and so that was where we kept a fair sized stockpile of condoms stashed away so that she wouldn’t stumble onto them, but every once in a while the inevitable would happen and we would find ourselves in the mood for love but without a single rubber. On those occasions, neither of us considered for even a moment just keeping our clothes on and our hands to ourselves until after he’d had a chance to make a trip to the store, though.

He wouldn’t screw me of course, but we made out a lot and had plenty of oral sex. It was never enough, though.

Aching to be penetrated, I got on my hands and knees, dropped my head, and offered up my rump for his pleasure. Yes, it was all my idea! He took the hint and got right behind me so that, together, we could learn the art of anal sex.

The subject of sex is never far from the teenaged mind and I’ve had some lengthy discussions with some of my friends about our sex lives, though I certainly didn’t admit to any of them trhat I was having an incestuous affair. When I raised the topic with them, some of these friends described butt fucking as weird and disgusting and vowed never to try it. Meanwhile, of the handful who would admit to trying it, most claimed it was a painful and unpleasant experience.

I guess it all depends on who’s doing it to you. Personally, I’ve always had my biggest orgasms when my dad started banging away at my back door.

We spent several months merrily carrying on this intense and incredible, but utterly forbidden love affair, but things changed when the newspaper abruptly decided to drop dad’s column and he suddenly found himself out of a job. He and mom took a careful look at where that left them financially and by all accounts she was making enough money all by herself to keep a roof over our head and food on our table. She suggested that he just relax then and embrace the role of house-husband while she brought home the bacon.

You can be sure that I was all for that as it meant that dad would have even more time to spend with me!

Unfortunately, it was not to be. I got the idea that he thought it would be emasculating or something, that he felt like he ought to be contributing something more than laundry, lawn mowing and vacuuming to the upkeep of his family.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t really trained to do much of anything and so the only job he could find was factory work on a shift that required him to leave home in the middle of the afternoon and then come back home in the middle of the night! When you add in the time he had to spend sleeping, his wife’s hours at the real estate office, and the fact that my brother and I were now back in school, it seemed like he hardly ever got to spend time with any of us!

If we’d had just a normal father / daughter relationship, I would have missed him terribly. As it was, I started getting really cranky and hard to get along with now that he couldn’t scratch that itch for me any longer.

Naturally, Dad was doing his very best to get himself moved into a better shift, pestering his new boss endlessly. As he was the new guy at the factory and didn’t have any pull with them though, his pleas were falling on deaf ears.

On the increasingly rare occasions when we were able to slip away from the rest of the family for a bit, Dad and I spent a little time pondering on how best to steal a few moments to be together. What we came up with was a crazy scheme that was not good, but which we hoped might tide us over until we were able to spend some real quality time together.

Now, let me describe what happens at one of our little get-togethers.

When I go to bed each night, I have the choice of closing my door completely, or pushing it almost, but not quite closed. This is a subtle signal to my lover.

If the door is closed all the way, it tells him that, for whatever reason, I’m not interested in having him pay me a visit that night. It’s a message that I’ve only sent a handful of times when I was utterly exhausted or sick or something. On the other hand, if I leave my door cracked open, it tells him that I would like him to see him when he comes home from work. He doesn’t have to, of course, and I would understand if he chose to keep right on going because he was too tired or just not in the mood, but so far he has never yet passed up an opportunity to be with me.

My bedroom could have been pitch black when he entered my bedroom in the middle of the night. Obviously he’s been in there enough times to have noticed where all of the furniture is and where I keep my belongings, but it can still would have been a bit hazardous for him to try to navigate his way over to where I’m sleeping. I had planned for this contingency however and had been kind enough to put in a nightlight to thin the gloom just a little for him.

My stupid brother teased me endlessly about it when he finally spotted that tiny light, wondering why I was suddenly afraid of the dark, but I just ignored his nonsense, a happy smile on my face.

Knowing that my guy would be coming to visit me in the dead of night made it rather difficult to get to sleep when we first started doing this, of course. The thought of having him back in my bed for even a few minutes had me bubbling over with excitement, as you might expect. However, as the days passed and I got more used to our new routine, that passed and I found myself drifting off to sleep much more easily.

So, as he came silently into my room each night, padding his way across the carpet, it was always to find his little girl fast asleep. As he peels off his work clothes at this point and dumps them on the floor he tells me that he likes to spend a few moments just quietly watching me sleep, saying he is oftentimes simply entranced by my beauty.

Dad always was a smooth-talker.

I always go to sleep on my side as I just can’t get comfortable on my back for some reason and that apparently holds true even when I’m unconscious as my father claimed that he always found me either still on my side or over on my belly when he arrived. He doesn’t mind that a bit as it’s perfect for what’s about to happen between us.

Taking hold of my bed sheets, he pulls them down to completely expose my teenaged body, no doubt making me shiver a little in the cool, night air. Though I did try once or twice to sleep in the nude for him, I stopped when he protested. Apparently, he really enjoys undressing me.

When he comes to me then, he sometimes finds me in a nightshirt, but more usually I sleep in some pajama bottoms and an old T-shirt.

He sits down carefully then on the edge of my bed. The mattress rocks gently as he perches himself on it and that usually causes me to start to stir, but not really to wake up. If I’ve ended up lying on my side, his first order of business is to get me over onto my belly though and feeling him shift me is usually enough to get me out of dreamland. If it isn’t, the sensation of him running firm but gentle hands all over my body in slow caresses, planting intimate little kisses on my neck and cheek would be enough to bring me out of a coma!

You might have thought that I would start awake to suddenly be brought out of a sound sleep by roaming hands and tingling kisses, but I am always roused gently by his ministrations.

Even coming out of a deep sleep, even though I cannot see him at all in the darkness, I know instantly what is happening and always half whisper, half sigh, “Daddy . . .”

He’s a bit leery of it seemingly like he’s molesting me in my sleep and so he takes a little time with this. Only when he is satisfied that I am awake enough to be able to understand who he is and what he’s doing does he move on, edging his way down my body. If I’m wearing one of my nightshirts, he would lift the back just enough to expose my taut little bottom, but when I’m in my pajamas he instead pulls gently but insistently on them until they have dropped to about midway down my thighs.

I feel his strong hands go to work on my buttocks then, massaging and caressing them, kneading the firm flesh and even giving my puckered sphincter a few tickles. Leaning down over me, I can feel his hot breath on my ass just before he then applies his tongue to my butt hole, giving it the kind of attention that always makes me melt. As I start to relax and the muscles back there loosen up, he even uses his thumbs to spread my open and let his tongue dart inside.

Trial and error and lots and lots of practice have taught him what he must do in order to get my motor revving up to top speed.

Next, I feel the bed shift wildly as he joins me on it, placing himself right above me, pressing his crotch against my ass. Every single time, I have found him to already be hard and ready when he does this and I used to wonder idly if his erection started when he started touching and kissing me, or if it was already building as he made his way home, knowing that I was waiting for him. In the end, I didn’t waste much time on such pointless speculation though, just glad it was me who was about to claim that rock-hard love muscle.

Guiding the head of his cock to my back door, he would carefully start to press it into me. It was a tight fit to be sure, but we were both professionals and he usually managed to sheath himself in me without too much trouble.

We allowed ourselves a moment or two to catch our breath after he got all the way in, but ever conscious of how limited our time was always made it a brief respite at best.

He rolls me again now so that I am on my side once more, one of his arms beneath me. Our bodies remain firmly pressed together, his front to my back, and his full length remains trapped in my bottom. If I’m in my pajamas and T-shirt, he then lifts up the front of my shirt to expose my pert little breasts and grabs hold of them with both hands, but if I’m in a nightshirt, he’ll just take hold of me right through it.

I always feel like I am enveloped in him at this point and I cannot tell you how much I love it.

Though we both wanted to spend his nocturnal visits indulging in an honest to God, full scale fuck, we both knew accepted that it just wasn’t a good idea to try that. Remember that I’m a relatively young girl and I had to get up early most mornings to head off to school. Besides, we both could get a bit vocal when we really got into it and, in a still and silent house in the middle of the night, it was almost certain that someone would hear us.

Thus, he does not spend these precious few moments we have together pounding himself into me, driving me to one cataclysmic orgasm after another.

Instead, the action is much more slow and gentle, our bodies sort of rocking back and forth as he pumps himself in and out of me in a smooth, steady rhythm. The orgasms we share from this calm and deliberate style of fucking may be slow in coming and may not have the kind of raw power that might raise the roof, but they are deeply and profoundly felt, make no mistake about it.

We lie still in the aftermath, enjoying the calm after the storm as we catch our breath and regain our strength.

I’ve never been happier than I am when I’m lying in his arms after we’ve made love, but the moment always ends too soon as we both know that he must leave me now as the risk of our being caught like this was growing every second. He gives me one last loving kiss and then starts to untangle himself from me, rising from the bed and putting his clothes back on.

From out of the darkness, I hear a sincere and heartfelt whisper from him. “I love you, honey.”

My response is automatic, but just as deeply felt. “I love you, too, Daddy.”

Then, he is gone as silently as he came.

Believe it or not, I generally have no trouble at all getting back to sleep after one of these visits, my dreams very happy ones, even though I often find myself lying in a little puddle of cum.

I am nineteen years old now and attending college. So, when was the last time my father paid me one of these little nighttime visits?

That would be last night.

What really puts the exclamation point on this little tale of forbidden love is that fact that my poor father has been dead for better than a year now! Just as he was finally about to get that long awaited transfer, just as we were plotting out how to celebrate by having the wildest, nastiest, dirtiest fuck of all time, he was involved in a terrible accident at that factory and was killed saving the life of one of his coworkers.

I was inconsolable for the longest time, but after dad’s spirit started putting in appearances in my bedroom in the dead of night, I started to remember how to smile again.

Our routine has stayed the same. He always comes to me when my door is cracked open, and I am able to sleep the night through when my door is shut. Once he does come inside, everything proceeds just as it did when he was still alive with him getting into my bed and fucking my ass. I don’t actually see him, mind you, but I didn’t before either and yet I knew who it was, knew that I was safe and sound. He still whispers to me that he loves me, though now I hear not with my ears so much as with my mind.

I unplugged my nightlight, figuring that a ghost wouldn’t need it to see in the dark, but I was proven wrong. I swear to you that I was woken up that night by the sound of someone kicking my vanity and muttering a few choice curse words. I made sure that the very first thing I did the next morning was put that nightlight back.

These little trysts in the dead of night were once supposed to tide us over until we could find a way to spend more time together, but now they will have to keep us until we are reunited in the next world.

Oh, and just in case any of you are thinking that maybe there is no ghost, that maybe it’s all in my imagination or a recurring wet dream or something, let me ask you this question:

How is it that I still find myself sleeping in a puddle of cum?

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Being so easily distracted and with a muse who seems to have abandoned me, it’s a wonder that I ever finish anything!

I’ve been struggling to finish a story ever since I posted my last one and was finally just about done. Really, all that’s left is the climactic sex scene at the end.

Then I realized that I hadn’t posted a new story since early August though and started to feel pretty bad about it. I wanted to get something new up pretty soon, but that story was coming very slow. I found myself casting about for a story idea that I could bang out quickly to fill the void until I finally finished that other story.

Thus, this tale was born.

Initially, it was going to be more or less what you see here. Dad was having an affair with his daughter, but didn’t have any time to be with her and so they were sharing little quickies by night and pretending to be a perfectly normal and innocent family by day.

The story actually came to me almost as fast as I’d been hoping it would, but at the last minute I suddenly remembered that we were coming up on Halloween! The ghost angle came to me and I did a quick rewrite to turn it into something fairly spooky. Fortunately, I then took the time to read over it instead of just posting it like I usually do and so found out that it was completely and utterly unreadable. I did the rewrite and think the result is a not great, but pretty good little story.

Meanwhile, with that first story so nearly done, I hope to be able to post it before too much longer.

[cptgreg]

Well written with a good storyline, as usual, but not my cup of tea. I know it's odd, because I write mother daughter, son mother, brother sister, sister sister stories, but for some reason I'm not real crazy about father daughter stories. That's just me.

[Ichabod]

Oh, well. I can't please everyone, I guess.

You'll be happy to know that the other story that has been taking me so long is a girl's only story.

You'll be less happy to know that I'm giving serious thought to making a sequel to that story "Confession Of A Minister's Daughter" where a girl get's banged by her dad just before his sermons each Sunday.