25

He shook his head wistfully and whispered, "I don't know how to stop trying, either."

Rolling my eyes, I sighed loudly. Then I muttered, "I'm really frustrated."

"I know," he said. He paused, thinking, and then added, "I didn't mean to frustrate you. And I didn't mean to... well, I shouldn't have done anything with you."

I found myself studying his face. He looked... disconsolate. And I was fairly confident that he was fighting a war of desire about what was right and wrong. I decided to just speak my mind. Leaning closer to him, I whispered, "But I wanted to do something with you."

He slowly lifted his head toward me until our eyes met again. His seemed to flick back and forth between mine, like he was trying to decide where to focus while he stared at me. I felt a warmth blossom in my stomach as I watched him stare at me. His expression was blank and yet, I felt like I could read him anyway. I had the distinct impression that I knew what he was thinking and that his thoughts were not truly all that different from my own.

"Don't you want me?" I heard myself whisper. I leaned even closer to him, my hand on the bed between us.

"Gracie," he said my name, sounding slightly out of breath.

I leaned even closer until our faces were less than a foot apart. My body was trembling. Whispering, I begged him, "Touch me, daddy."

My dad sighed gently but then he reached a hand out and brushed his fingers down my cheek. I closed my eyes, reveling in the feeling. My skin tingled. Pulling myself closer, I finally laid down right beside to him. His hand was still on my face, caressing me slowly. Fluttering my eyes open, I looked up at him.

"Lower," I whispered.

He frowned, but then his hand slid down onto my neck. It tickled, but in an arousing way. His fingers danced along my skin until he reached the sliver of exposed chest at the top of my nightshirt. I shuddered then and basked in the warm tingle that his touch elicited. Slowly he dragged his finger along the upper hem of my shirt, tickling my skin. He went back and forth a few times like that.

Then I said again, "Lower, daddy."

I could hear his breath catch and his hand felt like it was shaking. But then his hand slid down onto my shirt, gliding in between my breasts. He didn't stop moving until he reached my stomach. The combination of his light touch and the fabric of my shirt created a rippling tingle down my body. It felt like waves were gently lapping from both sides of his hand, filling my skin with warmth. I was trembling.

"Go... go lower," I whispered, swallowing. My vagina was smoldering. My entire body was almost boiling.

I was wearing shorts instead of pants tonight, since it was warmer than it had been. His fingers caressed their way lower until he bumped into the elastic waistband. He stopped moving then. Sucking in a breath, I reached my hands down to my waist and gently tugged my shorts down my legs, exposing my naked vagina to my father for the first time. He gasped and then I could feel his hand shaking. His fingers were mere inches above it. It had been a week since I shaved, so there was a gentle patch of fur between his fingers and my slit. He was staring at my crotch, eyes wide.

"Please, daddy," I begged.

His entire body was shivering but I knew it wasn't from being cold. The room was quite warm. But then he started moving his hand lower. I felt his fingers play across my pubic hair. When he reached the very top of my slit, his movement slowed. Lifting my hips just slightly, I offered myself to him. He was breathing irregularly and his hand was still shaking. But he noticed my movement. Inhaling deeply, my father pushed his hand lower. I felt one of his fingers gently dip in between my labia, brushing across my clitoris as it traversed downward. My body convulsed at the contact.

My father's hand slid all the way down to the bottom of my slit until his finger fell into the small indentation of skin that was my vagina. I gasped and then held my breath.

"You're so wet, Gracie," he whispered, his voice sounding enthralled.

"Because of you," I whispered back.

He slowly lifted his head away from staring at my vagina and looked at my face. My mouth was open and I was breathing funnily. Shallowly. I couldn't quite catch my breath. His finger was still pressed against my opening and my entire crotch was charged up.

Still focusing on my face, I felt my dad push his finger against my hole. He entered me and my eyes began to flutter. Pleasure buffeted me so strongly that I had to clench every muscle in my body to hold still. Forcing my eyes open, I saw that he was still looking at my face. His lips were parted, too. He inhaled and then I felt his finger push a little deeper into me. I gasped, trying to keep my eyes open so I could watch his reaction. Instinctively, I spread my legs a little. He pushed again and the rest of his finger disappeared inside my vagina.

I was so worked up, so charged from weeks and weeks of stimulation, that I felt an orgasm churning its way into my crotch. Deep in my vaginal canal, the tingling raced toward the surface. I gasped as I stared up at my father's face. He looked so timid. So scared. But I wanted him to be ok with this! I squirmed, pushing my hips toward him. His finger sank another centimeter inside of me and I gasped. Then he started moving it, very gently. He pulled his hand back, then pushed it forward. Slowly. In and out he fingered me at an almost agonizingly slow pace. But I loved it. It felt wonderful. And best of all, I was close to having an orgasm.

His movement stopped. I could feel his finger still inside me, but he wasn't moving. He sighed and then said, "This just isn't right, Gracie. You're... you're my daughter."

Reflexively, I thrust my hand out and grabbed hold of his wrist, just as he started trying to pull his finger out of me. Holding onto it, I started moving my hips, forcing his finger to penetrate me. I was so close! My body was shaking. I undulated myself, moving a little faster. I felt his finger sliding in and out of my chute, bringing me closer and closer to release. I started gasping.

But then he started resisting, trying harder to pull his finger out of me. I wanted to scream.

"Why don't you want to give me an orgasm?" I asked, my voice dripping with scorn and frustration.

He was shaking his head as he whispered, "I do. Very... very badly."