Gender: Male Age: 42 Location: N/A
|Introduction: A story of how a mans seemingly dormant sexlife suddenly becomes hyperactive|
This is my first story ever.
Comments are more than welcome.
This is not a quick climax story. It is more like a short novel, so there is a lot to it.
This story contains details of incest among other sexual fantasies. If you are against such things, please move on.
Everything from here on is completely fictional and never actually happened.
I got married young. 18 as a matter of fact. And rather quickly too. We had only known each other for a little over six months when we tied the knot. I know now that it was not love, it was lust. That woman was so damn hot, just the way I like them.
Jeanie was 5’1”, 98 lbs. Hair the color of ravens feathers with long, loose natural curls which hung to just above the little dimples in her lower back and framed her beautiful heart shaped face. It was always so soft and shiny. I loved to bury my face in it and run my fingers through it. Her eyes were blue…, like the color of a tropical lagoon. So unique I could stare into them for hours.
She was a gymnast since she was old enough to walk. She loved the sport with a passion and would constantly be doing different moves and such, even at home. And with that she had a perfect, hard body, at least in my opinion. She had pert B cup breasts topped with tiny little nipples which seemed to almost always be erect. Those rested above the hardest stomach I’ve ever seen on a woman, a perfect, firm tummy with just a slight hint of a six-pack. And it was solid as a rock. Her back had a nice arch to it. When she stood, she looked as though she were lying down with her lower back arched in the air. She had excellent posture. And because of that her firm little bottom stuck out always enticing me to reach out and squeeze it. She kept her pussy shaved most of the time. But when she did let it grow, it was always trimmed and neat and she never let hair grow around her vagina, only on her mound. Her hips were slightly rounded which led to firm, muscular thighs leading to her muscular lower legs which were perfectly proportioned to the rest of her. And she had delicate size six feet that were like a second pair of hands with high arches. She loved to wear high heeled shoes.
So, at my young age you can imagine that I was so overcome with lust for such a delicate yet strong creature, that I mistook it for love. So we got married and soon after, bought an old four bedroom farmhouse on 200 acres of land and started our lives together. My parents financed it for us because my dad owned his own very successful trucking business and it had been well known that I would take it over when they retired.
Everyone loved the house. We got lucky actually. It was perfect. It had been well taken care of over the years and it showed. Along with the house, there was an old barn, a 30 ft fieldstone silo and three out buildings. All were in excellent condition, however the outbuildings could have used some paint, but we never could bring ourselves to do it because the old grey barn boards with a touch of red paint on them gave the place the perfect amount of rustic charm. The place was a homestead. Built in 1847, it has all of the right features for those who enjoy historic architecture. Two massive Red Oak trees guard the main entrance to the house with a wide field stone sidewalk in between leading to a large porch spanning the width of the house. Large French doors with acid etched windows welcomed all who came. Entering the home, you are welcomed to intricate wood trim that had never been painted. It was all hardwood stained with its age and a dark coat of stain. The first room you walk into is the dining room which is rather large. We set it up so we could entertain both of our families during holidays which amounts to 20 people, give or take, and there’s room for more. The floors are dark hardwood with a large fireplace across from the front doors. To your left is the kitchen. It had all of the old appliances there, but this was the one room that we upgraded. We spared no expense though because we wanted to keep the charm. We bought all new appliances, but everything was retro. Even the stove was custom built to look like an old wood kitchen stove, but it was a modern gas stove in reality. To the right of the dining room is the only bathroom in the house. It’s spacious and has really the only modern looking thing in the house, the shower. We loved to take showers together, so we had one custom built and it’s big enough for four at least, if you wanted to, possibly five. It has nozzles that spray at you from all directions if you want them to and this was built around a hot tub. Back to the dining room, straight ahead, on either side of the fireplace are large archways leading to the living room. There are large picture windows looking out over the rolling hills with the mountains in the distance. These windows face the West and make for some pretty awesome sunsets. To your left is the large, curved staircase leading to the upstairs. There is where the four bedrooms are. They are nothing special, but they are large and the master bedroom has a fireplace in it. Under the stairs is the door to the basement stairs. The basement was made with fieldstones also and kind of has a dungeon feel to it. It is very clean and always dry, but I must admit, even I find it kind of spooky. From the basement there is also a doorway leading outside.
The house was everything we wanted, with two exceptions. We felt that there would be a time when we would need another bathroom, and Jeanie wanted an addition put on that she could use as a gym. So off of the right of the living room we built an addition for her and I put an extra room in it so I had an office after I took over the business. I had a large window installed in my office so that I could watch Jeanie work out. Always thinking ahead.
Two years after we were married we felt we were ready, she was pregnant with our first child.
I don’t know why, maybe it’s because I never had a sister. I have no clue. But I wanted a daughter. I would have been happy if our baby was a boy, but I really wanted a daughter. We opted to find out early what sex our baby was going to be and I was delighted to find out that we were indeed going to have a daughter. The day she was born I wept. She was perfect. Everything was in the right place, and in the right amount. I was so happy. It still is to this day the best day of my life. We named her Victoria Rose.
Now like every couple, Jeanie and I had our problems. Young, inexperienced. Getting to know each other and figuring out how life really works. The stuff all couples deal with, but for young couples, it’s so much worse. Both of us were immature. Didn’t know how to choose our battles and nit-picked over every little thing. But we worked through it. At least I thought we did. As it turned out, it was only I who was working through it. She was seeking greener pastures. After I thought long and hard, I decided that I could never look at her the same. I could never trust her. So even though it killed me inside…, I filed for divorce.
She didn’t want it of course, but I held my resolve and followed through. I filed for primary placement of Victoria and won it. Soon after the divorce Jeanie met another man and moved to another state with him leaving me alone to raise Victoria. She was two. She pretty much disappeared without a trace for five years and then she started to try to rekindle a relationship with Victoria, which took a while but eventually she was successful. And we managed to become friends as well.
I realized that I may have to play the role as mother and father when she left though. I wanted to be the best parent I could possibly be. So I read, and researched and learned all I could about female anatomy. Puberty, menstruation, birth control…, anything I thought she might have questions about when she got older. My friends thought I was nuts for worrying about things so far in the future. I vowed to be open with her, honest. Treat her as a person with feelings and opinions and allow her to voice them. Teach her respect for others and herself and the value of an honest days work. After all, I didn’t know if I’d ever find someone I could trust to take my heart again, let alone risk Victorias.
And I did date. Some really interesting women. I was picky, they all were kind of the same build as Jeanie. Some were freaks in bed, others, not so much. But none of them worked out. I always worried when I’d have a woman over that Victoria might overhear what was going on in the bedroom because the heat vents for the upstairs were simple grates just below the ceiling to allow heat to go from one room to the other. And of course, the room Victoria picked out when she was old enough was the room right next to mine. We’d always wait until long after she went to bed. But it was still in the back of my mind.
Raising Victoria really wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. Whenever I did need help, I had the support of my parents and even Jeanies parents. I raised her in a way that would probably raise the eyebrows of most people. Our comfort dress was underwear in the evenings and in the morning. I decided to do this because I wanted her to be comfortable talking to me about the human body and not to be a prude and embarrassed about herself, and that’s what I grew up with, I was used to it. When she was 14 I took her out and got her shit-faced drunk. I did that so that since she was now in high school, if she ever found herself in a situation where she needed a ride home from a party or from an overzealous boy, she would not be afraid to call me. And when we rough-housed, I treated her like a boy. Of course I didn’t use full strength, but I didn’t take it easy on her because she is a girl either. I did this because I know that there is a good chance that she could end up with an abusive boyfriend and I wanted her to not be afraid of a little pain so she could defend herself and get away.
When she was 4 she wanted to get into gymnastics. I was all for it because of the grace her mother had. It was a turn-on for me to watch Jeanie do her routines, but for my daughter it was pride. Watching her progress, seeing her win trophies and watching people stop what they were doing to watch her. When the competitions or the practices were over, I was proud to be the one to hand her the towel and put my arm over her shoulder to leave all of the others in pure amazement. I am so proud to be her dad.
As she grew older and started to develop into a young woman though, I found myself attracted to her. Granted I would never try anything with her, that would be just wrong. But she was turning into her mom. Beautiful, graceful, everything that her mother was and even a little more. She had my demeanor, and you could see a little of me in her face, but after that she was all her mother. I would have never admitted it then, but by the time she turned 14, I started to find myself having fantasies about her. I was still in control. She’s my little girl and I would never do anything to hurt our relationship despite my desires. But alone in my room at night, I would close my eyes and touch myself. Thinking about her in her leotard doing stretches and different moves. Or maybe think about the mornings when she comes down from her room in only a bra and panties. The ultimate and most difficult time is when she would have team sleepovers with her five other team mates. When they would sun themselves by the pool or practice in the gym, I would have to leave. To think about the thin material being the only thing between decent and nudity, the young asses in the air, splits…. Oh my! I had to leave them to do their thing. It was actually painful to watch for too long.
Then one day, everything changed.
I was sitting in my office on the computer doing research for work. I was getting so bored that I was beginning to doze off at the computer. I had been actually contemplating taking a nap when suddenly I heard a loud scream from outside. I knew it was Victoria and before I could get up she was in the house. I met her at the office door. She was kind of staggering and she was crying. I held her and asked her what had happened.
“I was riding your bike to go check the mail ‘cause mine has a flat tire, and I turned the handlebars too sharp and the bike was going to fall over so I slid my feet off the pedals to keep from falling and the bar hit me in the crotch! Ooooo, it hurts dad! So much!”
Now I should tell you that Victoria was 14 at this time. In fact, only a few weeks from turning 15. My bike is a
27” mountain bike so I know that when she hit, she hit hard because she would have had to tip the bike quite a bit just to get on it with her short legs.
I felt so bad. I was almost in tears myself. I love my little girl. Many times I truly feel she is all I have left in the world. I have a good life, but she is the best part of my life. And I hate to see her hurt.
“I don’t know what I can do sweetie.” I said as she cried into my chest. “Do you want to go to the hospital.”
She was shaking in my arms and I could feel her knees buckle as she struggled to keep standing. “I don’t know dad. It just hurts so bad.”
“Do you want to try sitting down or maybe lying on the sofa?” I asked.
“I think I’ll try lying down.” she sobbed.
I led her over to the sofa and helped her lie down. Her face was still distraught and she was sobbing.
“Would you like anything? Maybe a glass of water?” I asked.
“Yeah, water please. Ice water.”
I left her on the couch and went to the kitchen to get her a cold glass of ice water. Walking back to her, I stopped short remembering that she’s laying down. I reached over onto the counter and grabbed a straw out of a glass we use just for that purpose and stuck it in the glass. I returned to her and handed her the glass.
Still sobbing, she thanked me and reached up to take the glass and pressed the straw to her lips. Her lips quivered as she sucked on the straw. I felt so helpless.
“Would you like to watch a movie and see if the pain dies down while you decide if you want to go to the hospital or not?” I asked.
“Yeah.” she said. “But I doubt if I’ll want to go to the doctor. I don’t want them looking down there. It’s bad enough when I have to go in for my exams. And this would be an ER doctor, someone I don’t even know.”
I could see her reasoning and decided not to push the issue any further, for now.
“What movie would you like to watch?” I asked.
“I dunno. Whatever. I honestly don’t care, just something to keep my mind off the pain.”
I picked out Pretty Woman. It’s one of her favorites and to be honest, I like it too. I popped it in the VCR and pushed play and turned on the TV. I returned to the couch and she picked up her head and I sat down. She rested her head on my thigh and wiggled herself down into the couch making herself as comfortable as possible. I reached down ad ran my fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp. This was a typical routine for us when we watched TV. Innocent, loving…, but I must admit that the last couple of years this aroused me a little bit because she is just like her mom, her gorgeous, perfect mom. Of course I realized that she wasn’t Jeanie, but she was so much like her that my mind kind of went back during these moments. Sometimes I would even feel a stirring in my jeans if I let my mind wander too far.
Soon I could hear a little snore. I knew she was sleeping. And it didn’t surprise me. She must be exhausted after that. Just the crying alone. As she lay there I watched her sleep. I suddenly caught myself watching her chest rise and fall as she breathed. She was wearing a tight white low cut sleeveless “T” and I swear if she weren’t wearing a bra I would have almost been able to see her nipple. I mentally slapped myself when the stirring in my pants brought me back to reality. I returned to watching the movie, but soon was looking at her again. Had it not been for her pain, I honestly cannot tell you that at that point I wouldn’t have touched her half exposed breast. But I took control and talked myself out of it.
I was awakened by the sound of Victorias’ voice.
Her voice sounded kind of muffled. I found myself still on the couch. The TV was off.
I could hear the desperation in her voice. Or maybe it was fear? I grew concerned.
“On my way sweetie.” I said as I pulled myself up off of the couch. From the direction of her voice I knew she must be in the bathroom.
“What’s wrong Victoria?” I asked through the door.
“Come in here dad.” Yup, she was scared, I could hear it clear now.
“Are you decent?” I asked as I knocked twice for some unknown reason and entered without waiting for an answer.
As I entered the bathroom, I saw her sitting on the toilet. She had a towel over her lap and was holding her panties in her hand. She held them out to me.
“I’ve been bleeding!” she cried. “I’m scared!”
I took her panties from her and opened them up. Sure enough, there was blood right where her vagina would have been. It wasn’t enough to make her bleed to death, but it was enough for me to be worried.
“Maybe it’s your period.” I reasoned.
“No, it’s not that.” she said. “I just got done with it, remember? I had you pick up tampons for me.”
She was right. She did just finish her period. Like I said, we’re open about everything.
“I think you need to go to the doctor. I think I know what happened, but you should be checked out.”
“What do you think it is?” she asked biting her lip and wiping a tear from her cheek.
Knowing how delicate some women are about their virginity, I tried to be as sincere as possible. “I think…, I think you broke your hymen.”
“How could that happen?! It was a bike for crying out loud!”
Not sincere enough…
“And nothing bigger than my fingers have ever been in there!” she screamed.
Immediately after she said that she smashed both hands over her mouth so hard I thought for sure she was going to give herself a bloody nose.
“It’s ok sweetie.” I soothed. “Masturbation is perfectly normal.”
She was so horrified over what she had just said, anger turned to embarrassment.
“I’m so sorry dad. I didn’t mean to say that.”
“Hey,” I said. “I told you a million times that you can talk to me about anything. Ok?”
“Ok.” she sighed. Quiet for a moment to regain her composure, I’m sure, she asked, “So how can a wipeout on a bike break my hymen?”
“Well, I’m not sure how.” I explained. “But I do know that a lot of girls and young women who ride horses can break their hymen just from that.”
Yes, I let her swear too. Neither one of us swear very often, but to me they’re just words.
“Yeah, really.” I said.
“So was the pain earlier outside or inside of your vagina?” I asked.
“Oh, it was outside! It still does too, although it’s not nearly as bad as it was.”
“Well,” I said “you probably hurt yourself so bad on the outside that you didn’t even feel it tear.”
“Huh.” she said. “So how do I find out if I broke my hymen?”
“Well, I think you should see a doctor. I THINK you MAY have broke your hymen. But I am not a doctor.”
“But what if that is all that it is? Is there a way to find out without going to the doctor?”
“Well, I don’t know how you’d do it. But if you could open yourself up and look inside with a mirror, you’d see it if it was there.” I explained.
She thought for a moment and then said, “Now c’mon dad. Just because I’m a gymnast doesn’t mean I can do that!”
“It would be tough.” I chuckled as I turned to leave the bathroom. I stopped at the door and turned my head over my shoulder to look at her as I spoke. “I’ll go call the doctor and make an appointment for you.”
As I turned to leave her, I heard her quietly ask, “Could you do it?”
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