Why Do Dad'S Characters Resonate With Audiences?

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” his raspy voice dripped with lust and uncertainty as his eyes scanned my exposed cleavages, “your father…” “Shhh.” I stopped him mid-way, placing my finger on his soft lips, “We both want this. I have seen the way you look at me, Mr. Richard. Do not hold back now.” I whispered sultrily. He swallowed hard and I saw him clench his well-chiseled jaws. I opened my mouth to continue my protest when all of a sudden, he grabbed me by the waist, pulled me closer and covered my lips with his in the hungriest manner ever. My body melted, succumbing to his burning desire. *** He was my father’s childhood best friend. He was always there for me since I lost my mother at the age of four. My father grieved hard and found it difficult to recover for many years, so Mr Richard was the father figure I had. However, he left the country after my thirteenth birthday and I almost forgot about him until he returned. I had turned twenty-one and when I laid my eyes on him, all my childhood memories came rushing back. But that wasn’t all there was. I noticed how hot and sexy he looked for that age and how his gaze lingered way too long on my mature body. And then, fate kept bringing us together, all I had to do was call on him. He was just being nice, right? Nothing more should have happened but my body refused to listen to my brain. I wanted him! I wanted him around me all the time, I wanted him to whisper in my ears and punish me accordingly if I did something wrong… I wanted him INSIDE ME.

DADDY Five girls who have been friends for a long time have the same taste, same likes and dislikes, but their personalities are quite different, but blend in throughout their friendship. As they grow up into women, they have the same fantasies about their gorgeous, attractive stepdaddies. They can't resist the urge to take care of them, to love them, turning into something more. MOMMY Five divorced women who are successful in their careers have weird feelings for their adopted sons. Their adopted sons are now grown, and it's their last year of high school. They are all athletic since they are players of the basketball team. Living in a house with handsome and hunky boys is quite difficult, especially if they are all 'tigang' when it comes to sex. It even became more difficult when their sons acts also weird towards them and their eyes stare at them with lust. Could they even stop and control their feelings before it's too late?

Everyone seems to be in love but me. Why is that? Relationship after relationship, and nothing. I’m always the bridesmaid, but never the bride. It’s getting old. Fast. And just when I start to give up, he walks into my life. Sexy, strong, older. The father of one of my students. It’s against the rules to feel the way I do about him, but I can’t help myself. A single father with a sexy demeanor and deep pockets. But that’s not what gets me about him. It’s the way he looks at me. As if he already owns me. The relationship can be our little secret. Or can it?

“ Daddy had given me a set rules to follow. And I plan to disobey every single one of them.” Alec’s entire life was flipped by the mystery man who sipped on slowly on scotch. Three days was all it took to get him hooked and needing more. And then all of a sudden, mystery man disappears, leaving behind a fake name, and bundles of cash, like Alec was some sort of call boy. But Alec  cannot stop thinking about him. So he follows the thin trail he left behind, the need to find him and prove something to him was primal. After all, Daddy had called him, his little good boy. But could Alec handle all of him?

Dad was terrified of being laughed at. Every holiday, he only ever said one thing. “Do not embarrass me.” The relatives were sitting around chatting when I accidentally knocked over a fruit platter on the table. He grabbed me right there and slapped me across the face. At dinner, I reached for a second helping of pot roast, and he kicked my chair out from under me. Later, when it was time to hand out gift cards, Uncle Ray miscounted and came up one short. Without a word, Dad shoved me out into the hallway in nothing but a thin shirt. The cold cut straight through me. I pounded on the door while I cried and apologized. He did not make a sound. He turned to Uncle Ray with an apologetic smile and said, “Sorry about that. I guess I have not taught this kid any manners.” He did not know that his lessons had already conditioned me to flinch at the phrase “laughed at.” Every time I heard it, I froze and felt myself shut down. When I heard him say it again through the closed door, I turned in silence and walked toward the dark bridge at the edge of the neighborhood. I did not know what I planned to do. I only knew I wanted the noise in my head to stop. I reached the railing and stared at the water below. One thought crossed my mind. “Dad, this time, no one will ever laugh at you because of me again.”

My name is Gabriel Wilson, and my sister is Isabelle Wilson. Growing up, Dad runs our house by making an example out of me. In elementary school, whenever Isabelle misses a single math problem on her homework, Dad forces me to write it out a hundred times. I scribble until my fingers cramp into a knot and I can barely grip the pen, which terrifies Isabelle so much that she stops making careless mistakes altogether. During middle school, Isabelle uses her allowance to buy a ten-dollar bag of snacks for a boy she likes, and the moment Dad finds out, he slashes my monthly allowance from 1,200 dollars down to a measly 200 dollars. For the next month, I survive entirely on cheap, stale bread until I'm rushed to the ER for throwing up bile. Even so, Dad only relents when Isabelle breaks down in tears and promises never to waste another dime. When college rolls around, Isabelle insists on applying to the police academy. Dad tries to talk her out of it, but when he realizes she won't budge, he tells her, "You want to be a cop? Fine. Let me show you what real cops actually have to deal with." He wipes my social security number from the system, stages my disappearance to look like a kidnapping, and dumps me right in the middle of a serial killer's hunting ground. I spend days confined in an abandoned cabin, calling for help until my voice goes hoarse. Blood begins to pool beneath my feet as the serial killer slices my skin with a rusted blade. Back home, Isabelle frantically begs Dad for my tracker. "Dad, please!" she screams. "Just tell me where Gabriel is! I won't join the police force, okay? I'll drop the whole thing!" Even though I'm just on the other side of the wall from them, I can no longer make a sound. My soul drifts in midair as I watch Isabelle collapse onto the floor in despair, sobbing. Dad, I'm done letting you make an example out of me.